Dragon Pox
by Melverne
Summary: Why would you bother to keep someone in protective custody without an able keeper? Mrs Figg was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and could have been a formidable Auror watching over Harry Potter. What if she decided to intervene?
1. Living WithThe Dursleys

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Summary: This story circulates around one of my pet peeves. Why would you bother to keep someone in protective custody or under surveillance without an able keeper? Mrs Figg was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and could have been a formidable Auror watching over Harry Potter. What if Mrs Figg decided to intervene? **

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason. There is a scene of violence and character death.**

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favourite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

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**Chapter 1: Living with the Dursleys**

A persistent rapping at the door roused the Dursleys from their sleep.

"Who the bloody hell is beating on the door?" Vernon growled as he got up. "Some damn fool doesn't know how to use the doorbell. It's nearly midnight. I should call the Bobbies!" The box springs protested loudly when Vernon pushed himself off the bed.

"It's probably Mr Vandart. The man can't find his own home after a few drinks. You know the Jordans found him passed out on their front yard last spring. Mrs Vandart will be embarrassed to death about this," Petunia remarked with a sanctimonious glint in her eye as she pulled on her robe. She held a smug look on her face as she thought of gossiping about the neighbourhood drunk's latest exploits.

Vernon felt a little stab of sympathy for Mr Vandart because he still had trouble himself finding the house they lived in. Petunia had wanted a new home to start a family in and the only thing they could afford at the time was one of the cookie cutter homes in a sprawling suburb. It wasn't as nice as they would have liked but it was new. More importantly, it made Petunia happy and kept her off his back. With his fairly recent promotion to director at Grunnings Drills, they could upgrade to a nicer neighbourhood in a few years.

Vernon pulled his dusty cricket bat from the closet on the way downstairs while Petunia looked in on their little Dudley. Fortunately, he still slumbered deeply. _A growing boy like our little man needs all the rest he can get, _Petunia thought after closing the door to the nursery.

The hammering at the door started in again even louder than before.

"I'm coming. I'm coming. Keep your shirt on!" Vernon bellowed angrily. _Better to put the scare into him before I open the door. Then I can just wave the bat around a little and chase the miscreant off. _

He unlatched the dead bolt and closed his meaty fist around the doorknob. Vernon looked up at Petunia on the landing of the stairs and confidently nodded to her before opening the door.

"Now what the bloody hell do you want?" His voiced dropped off at the sight of the unusual visitors at his door.

A sinister looking man with long, black hair stood outside. He appeared to be in his early twenties. The black robes he wore were trimmed in dark green. In a different era his apparel would have been considered elegant. His arms were crossed against his chest. One hand held a little stick, which he tapped irritably against his shoulder.

_Is he an orchestra director? _Vernon wondered.

When the gothic stranger saw the cricket bat Vernon held ready to swing, his lip curled back in a contemptuous sneer that would have curdled a bowl of milk. His eyes rolled down from the bat to menacingly meet Vernon's glare. Their eyes locked as if the dark stranger were daring Vernon to attack. Vernon's arm quivered, losing its strength and then slowly lowered until the bat hung limply at his side.

"Ah, Mr Dursley. How very nice to meet you," the other stranger greeted good-naturedly.

Vernon studied the other man. He was dressed in royal purple robes, which looked expensive but utterly ridiculous to Vernon. He did not recognize the gold embroidery around the hem of the robes but knew it was more than just a simple pattern. The man's hair was snowy white and a long beard tumbled down his chest nearly to his waist. The pointed, purple cap with matching gold embroidery was like a crown on his head. Wizened blue eyes peered out through gold-framed glasses. He appeared to be very old but not decrepit. Vernon could not deny the strength of command emanating from the old gentleman. He could have been dressed as a pauper and there still would have been no mistaking the venerable man's powerful demeanour.

In the crook of the old stranger's arm was the unmistakable bundle of a baby. The black hair of the baby poked out of the red and gold blanket that swaddled the tiny child.

Vernon stood in the door at a complete loss. He eventually made the connection that these men were the type that his infrequently mentioned in-laws kept company with.

"We... we don't want any," Vernon stammered lamely and tried to close the door.

The door froze open. Vernon could not get it to move another inch.

"We would like a word with your lovely wife Petunia, if you please." No matter how politely the purple robed stranger asked it was not a question. Vernon backed into the hall as the strangers entered his house.

Petunia now stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching in terror as her home was invaded by the people of her hated sister. She glared at the two men and nearly choked when she recognized the one in black. Petunia felt a sense of rage build up in her. The presence of the boy that had befriended Lily in their childhood flamed her hatred.

"You!" Petunia spat angrily and pointed an accusing finger at Severus Snape.

"Petunia," Severus acknowledged as he mockingly tipped his head to her. The door drifted shut behind Severus and locked itself.

The old man walked to the living room and made himself comfortable. He checked on the baby in his arms as he waited for the others to join him. Petunia and Vernon dumbly followed behind and sat down together on the couch. Petunia nervously clutched Vernon's hand in hers.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley it is indeed a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I am Albus Dumbledore."

Severus strode to the front window to watch the street outside. The Dark Lord had fallen and more blood would be shed this night. The Death Eaters had not given up the fight and were looking for revenge. Glasses were being raised in celebration and voices cried out in good cheer. But in the shadows there were also wands being drawn and dark curses were muttered.

"Now is not a good time for pleasantries, Headmaster."

"Thank you for reminding me, Severus. Petunia, I'm afraid our time is short and I must be blunt. I am truly sorry to bring you this terrible news but your sister, Lily, and her husband James, have died." He paused, waiting for the information to sink in.

Petunia blinked and stared at Albus.

"You could have just sent a letter," she answered coldly. She watched the baby in his arms curiously, not wanting to look Albus in the eye. Being a nosy person, Petunia couldn't resist asking, "How did they die?" Dread crept up her spine, knowing what the answer would be.

"They were murdered by Lord Voldemort," came the inevitable reply.

The Dark Mark sparked sending the sensation of pins and needles up Severus' arm. The man hissed at the mention of the Dark Lord's name from his station. "Headmaster, I must implore you to speed this up." _Fool send up a flare and scream we are here. The Dark Lord's name draws the attention of his followers and when he calls none of us can refuse._

Rage intensified in Petunia at the man before her and all of their kind. It was their fault. Lily and James Potter had come to Petunia after their wedding day with similar news. Apparently there had been an altercation at the ceremony. There was some resentment in their society over Lily marrying James. It had ended badly for their parents. Evidently they were unable to defend themselves and had become casualties of the deadly dispute.

Lily had tried to explain what was going on but Petunia wanted to hear nothing about it. Petunia had disowned Lily that day and asked to never see her again. When Lily chose to attend Hogwarts it had set the course for an early grave for their parents. It was only fitting, in Petunia's eyes, that Lily met the same fate.

"Is that all?" Petunia asked ready for Albus and Severus to leave.

Albus looked at Petunia a little taken back by her callous reaction.

"There is another small matter I must bring up," Albus replied and pointedly looked at the baby in his arms. "Little Harry here is the sole survivor of the attack. You are the only family he has left."

Petunia looked at the boy with loathing on her face when she asked, "Is he going to be like her, like you?"

"Yes. Even now when he is just over a year old I can feel the magic in Harry."

"Send him to the orphanage or whatever it is you do with parentless children. Maybe one of your kind will adopt him, but don't you dare ask this of me."

Getting his wits about him and sensing the burden about to be placed on them Vernon found his voice.

"We will not take in that unnatural child. Let your kind care for him. We do not need an unwanted child in our family."

Stealthily, Albus eased into their minds, probing for their fears and desires. _Petunia is still bitter about Lilly being special. She had to stay at home while her younger sister was whisked away to a secret society to learn things most people only dream of. It had hurt her deeply to be told that she could not go. To make matters worse the Evans were so very proud of Lilly and how well she did in school. When James and Lilly were married she had turned a cold shoulder to her sister refusing to be a bride's maid. Then tragedy struck when some Death Eaters assaulted the wedding party and their parents were slain. Vernon is as ordinary as they come and has no imagination, only ambition._

"I assure you he will not be a burden to you," Albus soothed and slyly added, "I would not expect you to take on this challenge without some help for the family. A monthly stipend to help with the extra mouth to feed."

Greed immediately glinted in their eyes when they looked at the bundle cradled in the Headmaster's arms and the income it represented.

"We do not have the room for **two **growing boys," Vernon answered shrewdly knowing a deal was being negotiated. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing his hands together greedily.

"Headmaster, there is not much time left," Severus called out impatiently. _I knew it. Someone else has felt the summoning. Anyone speaking of the Dark Lord tonight is likely to receive a visit._

"I think one of the new homes on Privet Drive in Little Whinging would give us the space we need for **our **boys,' Vernon continued. 'Of course Petunia would be giving up her career to take proper care of the children and she was on the fast track with the firm. She is due for a promotion any time now," he hinted. The man warmed up considerably now that they were in his arena. He did not become a director of Grunnings for nothing.

"Yes, I am sure she is quite successful," Severus said sarcastically from his post. "Just give them what they want, Headmaster." To his chagrin he had inadvertently conveyed the desperation of their situation.

"We will provide you with everything necessary to raise Harry that is befitting a Potter. The monthly stipend will be very generous," Albus assured the Dursleys.

"They're here. Two maybe three incoming hostiles," Severus shouted.

Before they could react further the front door was blasted off its hinges. Petunia screamed as a Death Eater did an impressive roll through the door trying to get the drop on his targets.

"**_Confringo_**_!" _Severus shouted, blasting the crouching assailant through the wall. "Only an imbecile would come through the front door."

Severus shook his head. One thing he had strongly disliked about being among the Death Eaters was the lack of qualifications. Men such as himself and Lucius Malfoy were far too few. The inner circle was composed of the greatest of their ranks and the Dark Lord carefully watched them all. The rivalry among the Death Eaters to rise in rank was startling. Only the most devious and powerful held their positions for long. Death and deceit courted every meeting. The Dark Lord encouraged constant discord and mistrust among his followers.

As the most accomplished potion master among Lord Voldemort's followers Severus enjoyed a certain level of protection, but he had never relied upon it. The numerous duels with those wishing to rise in rank had honed Severus into a fine weapon. He was able to defend himself against the other megalomaniacs' challenges.

The healing potions were useful to the injured but it was the subtlety of poison that the Dark Lord cherished. To be able to brew the toxins and creatively deliver them to the victim was Severus Snape's true value - A silent assassin in Voldemort's employment.

"Dudley, our little Dudley is upstairs!" Petunia shrieked.

Vernon held her back from blindly running up the steps. Sucking in his gut and summoning his courage Vernon struck a heroic pose. "I'll get him," the big man bugled.

"Don't be ridiculous you fool." Snape sneered at the man. "I will get your child."

"Be careful, Severus," Albus cautioned. "Grab the boy and apparate to the designated point. We will leave from there in five minutes from my mark." The wand tips glowed as the time was synchronized. Albus stepped up to the Dursleys who were huddled together and apparated away with them in a show of his tremendous magical strength.

_I have only seen two wizards do a side along apparation with more than one person. One is quite likely deceased and the other just left. _Severus shook his head in wonder and turned off the downstairs light with a wave of his wand. With the lights out he would not be as easily seen. The man in black melted into the shadows to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. With the wave of his wand Severus cast a localized silencing charm on his feet so he could move about soundlessly.

Spying on the Marauders throughout school, and later the Death Eaters, taught him to use spells creatively in his dangerous pursuits. Many of the spells in his arsenal had been sufficiently mastered to be cast without a wand or verbal component, a few required nothing more than his intent.

After using a sensory spell to insure the second floor hall was not an ambush, Severus magically expanded his senses to listen at the doors, searching for the Dursley boy. His keen sense of smell, developed from brewing potions, allowed him to sniff out the scent of dirty diapers and baby powder. He could feel the ever so faint presence of magic in the room, indicating an opponent had found the nursery as well.

Carefully, Severus crouched down against the wall then slid his wand under the nursery door.

"_Lumos!" _A brilliant flash of light burst from the tip of his wand and lit the room on the other side of the door. He pushed the door open letting it bang against the wall and waited for the defensive fire.

The temporarily blinded Death Eater in the nursery panicked as predicted and started firing blasting curses rapidly in the direction of the door. Between shots Severus cast a curse at his adversary then waited for it to take effect.

The Death Eater's robes darkened as a lump bulged against the front. He pressed his free hand against the foreign mass questioningly. It squished and rolled around his belt line. Startled, he pulled his hand away. His fingers were hot and sticky from the blood clinging to his hand.

He backed against the wall in astonishment. Using an incantation he cut his robes down the front looking for the wound. Once the incision reached his navel, grey sausage like tubes spilled out the front and onto the floor. His abdominal wall was gone, hexed away by his opponent.

The wand tumbled from his fingers into the pile of steaming entrails. In shock he dropped to the floor and tried to gather his innards and put them back where they belonged. Through his hazy vision the Death Eater saw the movement of Severus entering the room.

Severus picked up the sleeping baby and turned to the incapacitated Death Eater. He pointed his wand in the other wizard's face.

"**_Sectumsempra_**_!"_

The cutting curse blew a neat round little hole through the dark wizard's skull. His head tipped back slightly in response. The Death Eater's eyes were glazing over with shock as he looked up at Severus. The attacker blinked at the blood and grey jelly like matter oozing over his right eye. His eyes rolled back and he slumped against the blood-splattered wall before his body gave a final spasm and then lay still.

When Severus apparated to the meeting place Vernon was in an uproar. "That boy is going to be a trouble magnet. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before we were attacked, in our own home! We do not want anything to do with your kind. I will not live my life in fear!"

Petunia was at Vernon's side doing her best imitation of a bobble head. She was nearly as red in the face as Vernon. How could they expect them to get wrapped up in her thrice-damned sister's affairs? Her head turned to Severus as he joined them.

"Dudley!" She cried, snatching her precious baby boy from Severus like he had the plague. Dudley sensed the stress and promptly started to wail.

"Thank you for the daring rescue, Severus," Albus emphasized for the benefit of the ungrateful Muggles. "Let's be on our way so we can talk in peace. Gather round please. It is best if we hold on to each other for this. We don't want to leave anyone behind."

Vernon grumbled about the unnatural method of travel but the Dursleys could not resist the compulsion to do as Albus asked. The Dursleys shuddered with a deep revulsion as they held on to the wizards. Petunia deliberately placed Dudley between her and Vernon to keep him as far from the deviants as possible.

A swirling moment of chaos later and they were in the Headmaster's study at Hogwarts. Once again Severus was amazed by the casual display of might from Albus. As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus could bypass the anti apparation wards around the school. So the man had transported three adults and a child to the school at an even further distance than the previous trip. _I am considered powerful by my peers but Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord are giants among men._

"Now we can be candid and get down to the point," Albus stated. "As you have surmised, your nephew may have a few individuals with an unhealthy interest in him. This is precisely why you were sought out Petunia."

Severus barely suppressed a snort. _That is an understatement. The boy will be hunted. Petunia could give a hag a bad name. If I had an ounce of compassion for the woman, I would warn them._

Petunia glared at Albus, not wanting to even entertain the earlier proposition no matter how financially beneficial it may be. It was just not worth getting involved with their sort. It had had a fatal ending for her parents and now for her sister and that bastard of a husband. Vernon was of a similar disposition and they comforted one another gathering their courage to tell the wizards to sod off.

Before they could voice their discontent, however, Albus began his explanation.

"Harry could be placed with another family. There would be no shortage of volunteers, for that I assure you."

Severus smiled covertly, thinking of the turmoil a custody war would bring. The Wizengamot would be swarmed with people seeking to claim the Potter spawn for fame, fortune or the possibility of revenge. Already they were referring to him as 'The- boy-who-lived'.

Even from across the room Severus could feel Albus exerting a calming influence over the Muggles. The essence flowed over his tightly shielded mind leaving a faint smudge that few would have noticed. The Headmaster may have taught him the art of Occlumency but it was the Dark Lord who had honed it.

Albus continued, "However, there is the matter of his wellbeing. Only the oldest wizarding families would have strong enough wards on their property to protect the boy from harm, but you have the strength of blood. If you accept Harry into your home, the defences would be impregnable. Not even the old estates could compete with this ancient magic. Furthermore, our world does not mix with the mundane. Harry would be unknown and sheltered from his ill-gotten fame. He would blend into your society, safe from those who would seek to hurt him."

With a look of scorn on her face Petunia looked Albus straight in the eye.

"No I will not have that abomination in..." She stopped in mid-sentence, drawn to his eyes like a moth to an open flame, never once suspecting the danger lurking there.

"Petunia," Albus reasoned with her, "he is of your family's line; A grand child of your parents whom perished tragically. Would they want him **or Dudley **to be without the love of family?"

Petunia sighed and her shoulders slouched in defeat. She answered reluctantly.

"We will take the... boy. Under the condition that we are well protected and provided for in return."

"Of course my dear, of course," Albus Dumbledore replied comfortingly.

**o~o~O~o~o**

The Dursley were settling in to their new home at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging Surrey nicely. The immense two-story home had three big bedrooms. The master bedroom suite had a private bath and walk in closet. The other two bedrooms upstairs shared a second full bathroom. The fourth room on the main floor made a nice office with a hideaway bed for visitors. The yard was huge and had extensive landscaping. The Dursleys debated the necessity of hiring a housekeeper and gardener. The house had truly exceeded even their lofty expectations. The only problem was Harry.

At first Petunia had been worried when Harry began crying for no apparent reason. She had fed him, changed his nappy several times and even resorted to carrying the loathsome boy around with her. He didn't look sick and the thermometer reading didn't show a high temperature. Harry's behaviour was wearing Petunia down.

Even worse, Dudley was being neglected. She had been ecstatic at the prospect of being a full time housewife and taking care of Dudley. However all of her time seemed to be spent trying to appease Harry.

Vernon was suffering as well. The incessant crying was interrupting his sleep and as a result he was quick to anger. Vernon was more irritable at work and verbally assaulted his staff for even minor grievances. His appetite was diminishing and he started staying out late at the pubs, drinking by himself.

This had to stop. The first thing Petunia did was to move Harry's crib to the living room down stairs and turn off the baby monitor. With the bedroom doors closed they couldn't hear Harry most of the time. To keep the crib out of the way when it wasn't being used Petunia would wheel it into the cupboard under the stairs.

After one particularly taxing day, however, Petunia was too tired to roll out Harry's crib. Instead she just walked in and put him to bed. When he started to cry she shut the door and went upstairs. Over the next few weeks it became her answer to the constant crying. The minute Harry started to cry he was put into the cupboard. When he eventually quit Petunia would bring him out. It was a much easier way of dealing with the child of her dreadful sister.

Petunia could tell Harry did not like being in the cupboard by the way he would fiercely cling to her as she put him in the crib. Most of the time his crying was reduced to little sniffles by the time Petunia carried him to the cupboard. Eventually all Petunia had to do was ask Harry if he needed to be 'put away' and he would quiet himself down.

Dudley was fascinated with Harry being 'put away'. He would deliberately poke, prod or hit his cousin trying to make him cry just so Dudley could watch Harry get shut in the cupboard. Not long after that discovery Dudley figured out that Harry would also be taken away if he cried.

By the time spring arrived Harry had almost quit crying entirely. Now he only cried when he was hurt badly. He had been trained to quietly wait for attention. It was this unusual discipline that caught Mrs Figg's attention the afternoon she finally met Petunia.

Mrs Figg had moved into her home the same day as the Dursleys to assume a vigilant watch over Harry Potter. After a few months of closely observing the Dursleys, Mrs Figg was prepared to introduce herself into their lives.

Petunia had established the habit of walking her double stroller down to the park every afternoon, so Mrs Figg began the strange Muggle custom of checking her mail during the Dursleys' afternoon walk. Eventually she timed it just right to meet Petunia.

With her copy of the Muggle magazine, _Feline Fancy_, in hand, Mrs Figg turned and admired the nearly two-year-old boys in the stroller. She leaned over for a better look and was rewarded with a glimpse of the lightning bolt-shaped scar beneath the black haired boy's bangs. His sparkling green eyes warily regarded her in return. Mrs Figg couldn't contain her excitement and tactfully misdirected it to the bigger boy.

"My what a handsome little man you are," Mrs Figg exclaimed. "Is he two maybe two and half?"

"Dudley is twenty one months old," Petunia replied proudly.

"Oh, you are a big boy. I bet your proud father is planning your athletic career." Mrs Figg smiled at Dudley.

Dudley blew a nice wet raspberry in return and clubbed Harry as he flailed his meaty fists about showing off. Harry's mouth opened ready to cry out but when his eyes moved to Petunia's watchful glare he sniffled once, twice and then gave a heavy huff. Harry was hit twice more by Dudley and shrugged the blows off. After the last hit Harry leaned away from his cousin's antics.

Mrs Figg attentively watched how the family interacted. Petunia never discouraged Dudley from hitting Harry. She didn't even seem to be bothered by it. What amazed her was that Harry had not cried when his brute of a cousin hit him. The brat had swung hard enough that she heard him hit Harry. _Albus had mentioned there might be some contention between Harry and his relatives, _she thought grimly.

"Look at those blond curls, you are going to be quite the ladies' man," Mrs Figg continued praising Dudley. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to get so caught up with your little boys," Mrs Figg stated as she turned to face Petunia and held out her hand. "I'm Arabella Figg."

"It is nice to meet you, Arabella. I am Petunia Dursley," Petunia greeted in return. Her thin, manicured hand reached out to shake Mrs Figg's.

"Who is that other child? He doesn't seem to be as high spirited as Dudley."

"That is Harry Potter my orphaned nephew. He is a bit dull in comparison to Dudley," Petunia agreed.

_Subdued would be a better description for the boy. _

"That is very noble of you. Not everyone would willingly take on another child especially at that demanding age. I don't envy you. Raising them will be quite a task. Don't be afraid to ask for help. I raised three boys of my own and know they can be a hand full. Well I won't hold you up from your walk any longer. I will have a pot of tea on shortly. You are welcome to stop in on your way back."

"Thank you for the invitation, Arabella. It would be nice to talk with another adult for a little while," Petunia nodded, her bony hands moving back to grasp the handles of the stroller again.

After walking through the park Petunia stopped at Arabella's home for tea as invited. She wheeled the stroller to the front door noting two cats peering out the window watching her. Before she could knock the door was opened. Arabella smiled warmly at Petunia and held the door open for her.

"Come in, come in," she happily invited.

Petunia's nose twitched disdainfully as she counted the cats prowling the house. _Four of the lowly beasts, the filthy curs must be on everything!_

The cats watched the visitor loftily, ignoring Petunia's disdainful look. Their eyes were glazed with indifference, as if Petunia was not worthy of interest.

"These are my cats," Arabella announced noticing Petunia's cool reaction. "They are an exotic pedigree known as the Kneazle. Their fur is more like human hair and is not likely to trigger allergic reactions. They are considered to be the most intelligent breed of domestic feline and are fiercely loyal to their owner. As a hobby I breed them and attend cat shows. Each one has earned at least one 'Best in Show'. As a notable breeder, I have purchasers who pay for the privilege of being on a waiting list for a kitten."

Petunia's shallow attitude instantly changed towards the cats once she realized that they were coveted and valuable.

"They are very fine looking," she praised.

Dudley whacked the arms of the stroller in frustration now that he was inside and no longer moving. He was getting ready to start a tantrum when one of the cats sniffed at Harry inquisitively.

A pure white cat with long hair had stood up on the stroller placing one paw on Harry's little leg and sniffed at his face. Harry cooed happily in return. His little fingers curled gently around the soft fur.

Dudley suddenly swatted at the cat, causing it to spit and hiss in irritation at the brat before sauntering off to lay in the sunshine.

Tea in the afternoon with Mrs Figg turned into an everyday occurrence over the next few years. When the boys were old enough to be enrolled for school Mrs Figg and Petunia joined a bridge club.

Albus had made the suggestion to Arabella that she might want to be better acquainted with Petunia to keep a closer watch over Harry. While it sounded like a good idea, Mrs Figg was not sure she could keep up the charade for long. It had surprised her that the two of them had grown into steadfast friends despite Mrs Figg's reservations about the woman. She had heard plenty about Petunia from James Potter when they had worked for the Order of the Phoenix together. There were very few people whom James was unable to get along with or whom he did not give the benefit of the doubt to - Petunia was one of them.

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**Thank you for reading the chapter. A great deal of time and effort has been committed to this story. The biggest reward you can give is a review. All comments are welcome.**

**-Melverne**


	2. Dragon Pox

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason there are some scenes of child abuse in this chapter and mild cursing.**

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

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**Chapter Two: Dragon Pox**

Harry was sitting slumped down over the school desk. His throbbing head was propped up by his sweaty palms. While praying for the end of the day, Harry stared at the open textbook between his elbows. When the afternoon bell finally rang it felt like his head was being used as the clapper.

He waited for the row to empty, avoiding the throng of students eagerly pushing their way towards the door. Slowly, Harry gathered his things then slouched after them. On the way out Harry took a detour to the boys' bathroom.

After using the loo, Harry went to wash his hands. His head ache was soothed by the sound of the cold water flowing over his hands. Eventually he turned his palms up and formed a cup. He watched his hands fill with water then roll over the sides. Harry leaned closer to the sink and poured a handful of cold water over his head. It felt cool and refreshing to him. He started to feel better almost immediately and splashed his face a few more times until he didn't feel so hot. The water moistened his lips and felt good in his mouth but he could only force a little of it down his sore throat.

By the time Harry left the boys' room the halls were empty. He walked out the front doors in a daze. Normally he avoided the park where Dudley's gang played, but Harry just wanted to go home and this was the most direct route. He was thinking about asking Aunt Petunia if he could lie down for a little while, hoping she would let him, when the first clod of dirt hit the side of his head.

"Bulls eye!" Dudley hollered as the boys unloaded on Harry.

Harry wiped the grit out of his eyes and kept walking. The gang of boys followed along, pelting him with dirt and calling him names. Piers ran up swinging a chunk of dirt by the weed he had uprooted. It smashed down on Harry's head to the thug's amusement. When they ran out of dirt they started throwing rocks.

The rocks hurt but Harry didn't feel up to running. He just ducked his head and tried to walk a little faster. Fortunately, most of the rocks were hitting his backpack. One rock bounced painfully off the back of his head though and Harry rubbed the spot until it stopped hurting.

"Where you goin' baby?" Dudley taunted. "Gonna run home and tell? Too bad nobody cares. You freak!"

"Yeah, freak," Piers echoed.

"Gonna cry, freak?" Gordon mocked, stepping on the heels of Harry's shoes trying to trip him.

"Cry freak cry," the boys started to chant. Harry's head pounded with the chant.

_Again with the freak. Why does it always come down to that? Just bugger off and leave me alone! _Harry thought to himself, irritated that being called a freak still hurt him deeply.

**oOo**

_"Happy Mother's Day Mum," Dudley announced happily. His pudgy hands held out a single white rose. "They were out of the pink ones you like." _

_Petunia cupped his round cheek and gave him a quick peck before Dudley could pull away. "Its lovely Dudley, thank you."_

_Harry watched them longingly from the hall. A piece of green construction paper adorned the refrigerator. Three stick figures graced the page. A woefully misspelled 'Happy Mother's Day' in a scraggly print was above the smiling family. Harry's drawing went out with yesterday's rubbish. He scooted forward and hovered by the arch leading into the kitchen. He felt like a stranger peeping through the window. _

_Dudley wiped the kiss from his cheek and scowled at Harry. He stomped out of the kitchen bumping Harry with his shoulder. "What'd you get for Mother's day? Oh yeah, you don't got one," he tormented under his breath._

_The hinge of the cabinet door squeaked when it opened. There was a little scraping sound as Petunia pulled a slender clear glass vase out. Petunia's feet clapped loudly on the kitchen floor as she walked to the sink. For such a small woman, she made a great deal of noise when she walked. _

_Once the vase filled with water, Petunia sat the rose in the middle of the kitchen table and sat down to admire it. _

_Cautiously Harry crossed the room to the table. He climbed onto the chair and stood up. Harry timidly looked at Petunia then leaned across the table. The gentle fragrance of the rose tickled his nose as he inhaled. He closed his eyes and breathed out heavily upon the flower. His breath sparkled as it blew upon the rose as visible as your breath on a cold winter day._

_The tips of the petals frosted then darkened to Petunia's favorite shade of pink. Harry's green eyes sparkled when he opened them and he smiled brilliantly at his Aunt._

_Her chair scraped across the floor as she stood up with a look of aversion upon her face. "You freak!" Petunia shrieked at the startled boy. _

_Harry quickly backed off the table to stand in the chair. His green eyes widened in fear. _

_Petunia took two quick steps to Harry and slapped him. His glasses skidded across the kitchen floor. Harry reeled against the back of the chair which tipped onto two legs precariously. His arms spun wildly as he fought to keep his balance. _

_After a moment, which felt sickeningly long to Harry, the chair tottered over backwards. Harry bounced painfully off the kitchen counter and onto the floor. He looked up at Petunia with tears in his eyes. _

_"Get out of my sight!" She shouted angrily as she shook the long vase with the pink rose at him._

_Harry rolled to all fours and crawled quickly towards his cupboard. A hard kick to his backside sent him careening into the hall. Shortly after Harry righted himself there was a crash when the vase hit the cupboard over his head._

_Glass crunched beneath his bare feet when he jumped up to open the door. He took one step on his bloodied feet and fell. Unable to walk Harry rolled to the furthest corner to cower. Darkness consumed Harry when the door slammed shut.. The dead bolt banged into place locking Harry away. _

**oOo**

The bullies cruelly harassed Harry the rest of the way through the park. Finally, Dudley pushed Harry down and left him there, sprawled upon the ground, as he and his two thug friends ran off laughing.

Harry's right knee was skinned from the heavy fall and he winced when he sat up. Running a hand over his knee Harry noticed the hole in the knee of his jeans. His stomach plummeted at the sight, knowing Aunt Petunia would punish him for being careless and ungrateful.

Harry picked himself up and adjusted his backpack so it didn't chafe his sweat soaked back as much.

Sweat trickled down between Harry's shoulder blades and along his spine. He scratched around the waist of his jeans just over the belt where perspiration gathered. Once he started scratching Harry couldn't stop. The stream of sweat running down the side of his face and along the hinge of his jaw tickled. Harry scratched at the spot before wiping away the sweat, smearing the dirt into a muddy complexion.

Harry was accustomed to being in the heat. The yard work he was responsible for was never ending and it was Harry's job to do it no matter what the weather was like. But this was different; it wasn't just hot outside… _Harry _was hot. He felt like he was burning up. The sweat just boiled out of his pores, dampening his hair, shirt and jeans. The hot itchy spots just kept getting worse.

Mrs Figg was out checking her mailbox, as usual, when Harry trudged by. Bits of dirt still clung to Harry and his cheeks were so mud streaked Mrs Figg almost missed the red inflammation on his jaw.

"I know it is considered to be good for the skin to have an occasional mud bath but you are supposed to wash it off afterwards," Mrs Figg teased the little six year old boy.

Harry liked Mrs Figg, even though he knew Dudley was her favorite. She was still kind to Harry and when ever Mrs Figg gave a gift to Dudley there was always something for him too. He didn't mind getting his gift after Dudley unwrapped his even if it was still in the sack. He was just happy to get anything at all.

"Hullo Mrs Figg," Harry half-heartedly greeted her.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" she asked with concern. Mrs Figg pressed the back of her hand to his flushed cheeks then placed the palm of her hand on his forehead feeling for a temperature.

"I'm fine ma'am, thank you," Harry replied. He grabbed his belt and twisted it back and forth around his waist, scratching his itchy skin. He sighed at the temporary relief.

Mrs Figg watched him itch with sympathy in her eyes. When Harry finished she lifted his shirt to see his waist. As she suspected, there were red dots all along his waistline. A few more blemishes were sprinkled across his stomach and ribs. He was already starting to get a green hue to his skin. _Where did the poor little child get Dragon Pox? _She wondered.

Harry jumped and brushed her hands away from inspecting him any further. When he saw her startled expression, he averted his eyes to avoid any questions.

"I better go. It was nice to see you, Mrs Figg," Harry excused himself.

"I think I better go see Petunia with you, Harry," she said empathically, "and try to stop itching if you can." Taking the hand that had been scratching at his jaw, she lead him to the Dursleys' home.

By the time they reached the Dursleys' house, Harry was trembling. He was afraid of what Mrs Figg would say. He was positive Mrs Figg was going to say something about the bruises on his ribs. They marched up to the front door and before Harry could stop her, Mrs Figg rang the front door bell.

Harry was really in for it now. Aunt Petunia had declared Harry a disgrace to the Dursley name and he was never supposed to use the front door where the neighbors could see him.

Mrs Figg could feel Harry's little hand trembling in hers.

_He must be feeling weak from the fever._ She thought mistakenly.

"Arabella," Petunia warmly greeted her neighbor as the door opened. Her eyes slid down to take in Harry's dirty appearance, already condemning him for not having the sense to stay out of the dirt. Her voice turned from friendly to disapproving as she asked, "What did he do now?"

Mrs Figg lifted the front of Harry's shirt exposing his red pox marked stomach.

"Harry has the pox."

The door almost swung shut when Petunia took an immediate step back from the plague-ridden boy.

"Chicken Pox?"

Seeing Petunia's aversion, Mrs Figg knew that Harry would not receive the attention he needed. She quickly devised a plan to place Harry in her care until he was better.

"Yes, chicken pox. Did you and Vernon get chicken pox when you were young? It can be very unhealthy for adults to get it. I assume that Dudley has not had it either since Harry is just now getting it. If one child in the home has the pox, the others will get it too."

"I've had it but I don't know about Vernon. I will have to ask him. You're right about Dudley, he has never had it," Petunia answered warily.

"Harry is at a very contagious stage right now and will continue to be for about a week. He will need to stay home from school and you might need to call a doctor."

Mrs Figg watched Petunia's face pale at the thought of taking Harry to the Doctor. Her instincts as an Auror were triggered by the sudden change of emotion.

_Why would she hesitate to get Harry medical attention?_

"It is a shame that this had to happen now with your turn to host the bridge party this weekend," Mrs Figg continued. "Everyone looks forward to getting together at the Dursleys the most." Mrs Figg sighed sadly. "Unfortunately, you will have your hands full taking care of Harry and most likely Dudley too. I doubt anyone would want to be exposed to chicken pox for fear of spreading it to their families." Mrs Figg tactfully paused then added. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Petunia asked hopefully.

"Well, with your plans for the weekend, not to mention for the sake of Dudley and possibly Vernon's good health, it would be easier to have someone else take care of Harry. Perhaps Vernon's sister, Marge, would be willing to?"

Harry jerked his hand away from Mrs Figg and glared at her for suggesting that Marge would take care of him. Their mutual dislike of each other was the only thing Harry had in common with that woman. It seemed like the only reason she visited was to torment him.

"Marge hates the boy. She would never do it," Petunia replied bluntly in front of Harry.

"I would hate to miss the party. But if you promise to bring me some of that incredible food you always make, I would be willing to take care of Harry until he is better."

Petunia hesitated a moment considering the offer.

"That would be wonderful, Arabella. I cannot thank you enough. Just let me know if there is anything you need."

"Just some clean clothes for Harry. The sores will weep so he will need to change clothes a few times a day. I will do the laundry as necessary."

Petunia hesitated, "I just started the laundry. I will drop off some clean clothes in a little while." _Just like the freak to cause problems. I will have to pick out a few things of Dudley's for him._

Mrs Figg took his backpack and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Harry. You will feel better in no time at all."

"Thank you again, Arabella, I really appreciate your help," Petunia called after them.

"Your welcome, Petunia. Tell Vernon and that little darling, Dudley, hi for me."

Harry cringed at the nauseating comment about his cousin.

From the second story window of Mrs Figg's house a cat watched them cross the street. As they started up the front side walk two more furry feline heads poked out from behind the curtains to watch them.

Harry was barely in the door when Mr Paws started pawing at his leg for attention. Mr Paws rolled upon the ground when Harry crouched down to give him a good petting. To Harry's delight, Mr Paws purred his appreciation.

When they visited Mrs Figg for tea Dudley would chase the cats away from Harry. That was alright with Harry though, he knew the cats liked him as much as he liked them. For as long as he could remember, Harry had spent one day a week with Mrs Figg so the Dursleys could have some family time. So he had plenty of time to play with Mrs Figg's four cats without Dudley around.

Mrs Figg smiled down at the child who generously stroked her cats. The four kneazles twined around Harry shamelessly competing for his attention. _I should report Harry's illness to Albus_, she thought hesitantly.

"I will be back in a little bit, Harry," Mrs Figg said as she left the room.

Her familiars continued to occupy Harry's attention while Mrs Figg left to make use of the floo network. A pinch of floo powder opened a line and a sense of foreboding filled her. On a whim Mrs Figg called out "Augusta Longbottom."

Mrs Figg was wondering why she called on the head of the noble house of Longbottom when the regal head of Augusta appeared in the fire. Emerald flames flickered around her silvery grey hair.

"Arabella, it is a pleasure to see you," Augusta Longbottom greeted.

After a slight hesitation Mrs Figg replied, "May I intrude on your time? I have something that might interest you."

"Is there a litter of kneazles? Neville isn't quite old enough for a familiar."

Mrs Figg lifted the ward to let Augusta through and stepped back.

Augusta emerged in a navy blue dress, which accentuated her silvery white hair. The woman's air of authority was nearly tangible. She dropped her pretenses immediately, however, and hugged Mrs Figg.

"It has been far too long old friend. What brings me to your humble abode?"

"Has Neville had Dragon Pox yet?"

Augusta was surprised by the question and hesitated a moment before replying, "No, he hasn't. I hope he does in the next few years. I don't want him to catch it during his first year at Hogwarts like so many of the children do."

"Muggles have started to have Pox Parties. They deliberately expose their children to the illness," Mrs Figg added.

Augusta laughed. "It is a tempting idea."

Mrs Figg led Augusta over to the archway leading into the front living room. They watched a small black haired boy laugh and play with the four cats. He had pulled the laces out of his shoes and was using them as toys, dragging the strings this way and that about the floor laughing at the cats as they chased the laces.

Being of a noble house Augusta Longbottom was not impressed with the dirty little urchin. Yet she was curious as to why her friend Arabella took such a keen interest in the boy. She stretched out her magic feeling his aura. The power blossoming in the boy was amazing. Much to her surprise, it was even more potent than Neville's.

Harry shivered like someone blew a cold breath across the back of his neck. He sat up straight, feeling eyes upon him, and turned to find a woman in the archway watching him. The woman standing next to Mrs Figg looked very proper to Harry. So, he quickly stood up to make a better presentation of himself.

"Madam Longbottom this is my neighbor, Harry James Potter," Mrs Figg introduced. "He is temporarily in my care until he recovers from the pox."

Augusta looked at Mrs Figg then back at Harry again. She could see a single red pox mark on his right jaw and his skin had a green hue. Clearly he was in the early stages of Dragon Pox.

She advanced on Harry, who looked up as she loomed over him while Mrs Figg walked behind and placed her hands on his bony shoulders. Almost reverently Augusta brushed Harry's bangs out of his eyes revealing the lightning bolt-shaped scar. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Harry." She offered her hand, knuckles up, in a very lady like greeting.

Harry smiled timidly then took her fingers and bowed to her like she was the queen of England.

"Thank you Madam Longbottom."

"Madam Longbottom has a grandson your age, Harry. If you feel better tomorrow, maybe you would like to play with Neville." She looked significantly at Augusta, whom nodded her understanding of the previously mentioned Pox Party. Time had not diminished the strong bond they had developed during their time at Hogwarts many years ago.

"Yes please," Harry blurted out eagerly before seeming to rein himself back in, "but only if he wants to. I... I understand if he doesn't want to play with me."

"Of course he will. Why wouldn't he want to play with you?" Augusta asked exchanging a questioning look with Arabella.

Harry shifted his feet nervously then drew a horseshoe with his big toe poking out his sock. He almost shrugged but Vernon usually smacked Harry a good one for being disrespectful when he did that.

"Just because..." _I'm dirty and smelly and everyone at school calls me a freak, _Harry finished to himself.

"That doesn't sound like a very good reason to me, young man. Neville will be happy to have a new friend to play with," Augusta replied confidently. The cool demeanor that Augusta projected almost slipped when she saw how much Harry ached for someone to play with.

_Something here is clearly wrong. I will give Arabella the opportunity to confide in me without little ears listening. She called me here for a reason. _

"Well I should go so that you may rest. Neville and I will see you in the morrow. Arabella, can I talk to you about some of the details?"

"I will be back shortly, Harry," Mrs Figg nodded to him before leading Augusta from the room.

Once they were out of Harry's earshot Augusta turned to face Arabella.

"What is going on?"

"It is too complicated to delve into the details now, so I will make this brief until we have more time to talk," Arabella replied in low voice. "Harry is being raised by his Muggle relatives and is completely unaware of the wizarding world. His home life is not ideal but Albus Dumbledore insists this is where Harry is the safest. There is something else I can't quite place. Something which has me uneasy. Will you be available later to discuss this after I put Harry to bed?"

"Yes. Is there anything you need?"

"An anti itching salve, a fever reducing potion and some clean clothes. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. He will only be using them for the next few days. Nightclothes only would be fine. Some of Neville's old clothes would be nice."

"Where is his clothing? Didn't his relatives send anything with him?"

"What he is wearing might very well be the only clothes he has. The woman who keeps him is probably rooting through the charity bins for some more clothes right now. Although, I have my doubts if she will even do that," Arabella vented. She wondered at her own sudden vehemence towards Petunia. They had always gotten along.

Augusta eyed Arabella skeptically. "The Potters are part of the Wizarding upper class. His immediate family was among the social elite with great wealth and influence. Why is he living like a pauper?"

"The family is very well to do by Muggle standards. But their fortune is not shared equally. Their own son's every whim is catered to while Harry is miserly provided for." It was almost like someone else was speaking.

"I will provide everything he needs, but we must talk about this Arabella. Something is amiss here. Floo me once he is asleep." The gallant woman activated the floo and stepped into the roaring green flames, disappearing a moment later.

Mrs Figg returned to watch Harry play with her familiars, turning the last few years over in her head as she did so. The Dursleys' treatment of Harry had always seemed cold and distant, but she had brushed it off to being Muggles. She felt a sudden tightness in her chest; in her eagerness to subtly insert herself into the life of the Dursleys she had overlooked his welfare.

On the few occasions Mrs Figg mentioned her concerns to Albus he had offered a sweet and said she was overreacting. She had readily accepted the Headmaster's conciliation. For some reason this bothered her, it seemed like she should be more concerned about it. She massaged her right temple at the onset of a head ache. Behind her the fireplace erupted suddenly. It took a moment for the ghostly flames to recede but when they did a whicker basket was left on the hearth. She retrieved it and immediately looked through the contents. Her old Hogwarts room mate and long time friend had delivered much more than promised.

There were two big clay jars on top, one was full of an oatmeal bath powder and the other was an anti itching salve. There was also a fever-reducing potion, enough for three or four days. A pair of soft, cotton mittens separated the jars, cushioning them from a leather bound copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and at the bottom were four silk nightshirts. The soft, cool fabric glided through her fingertips as she picked them up. There were two gold ones with red clothes strings and two red ones with gold strings; all four had a lion over the heart.

_Hmpf, so much for nothing fancy. These probably cost more than I made in a month as an Auror. It is a nice tribute to our house though,_ Arabella thought to herself as she placed the items back into the basket.

Mrs Figg carried the basket to the bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up, Harry," she called as she passed through the living room.

Harry gave her a worried look before reluctantly following her to the bathroom.

The water was turned on and adjusted so that it was cool but not cold. Harry lingered hesitantly at the door watching the tub fill. Mrs Figg dumped two handfuls of the gray oatmeal powder into the churning water and to their surprise a rainbow of colors swirled about the bathtub as the splash of running water triggered an explosion of bubbles.

Harry slowly moved to Mrs Figg's side drawn in by the colorful water display. Some of the bubbles began to drift up into the air. A blue bubble, bigger than Harry's head, floated towards him. He laughed happily when it popped on his finger.

When the tub was half full Mrs Figg turned the water off and removed Harry's glasses. She sat down on the closed lid of the toilet then and started to lift Harry's shirt when he suddenly snapped his arms down in response. "I can do that."

Startled by his reaction Mrs Figg thought about her sons and grandsons. None of the boys had minded being undressed until they were eight or nine years old.

"I know you can, but I would like to help you, Harry," she pressed.

Brilliant green eyes considered her reply. "You don't have to be nice to me cause I'm sick. I've been sicker and did alright by m' self."

"It's not just because you are sick. I want to help you," Mrs Figg quickly replied.

_I took the child in to do what Petunia did not or will not do herself. She was more than willing to desert him with the excuse I gave her._

"It's alright," Harry said, shaking his head a little. "I know you like Dudley better and are doing this so he doesn't get sick too. I still like you and 'preciate the stuff you give me after Dudley opens his gifts. You don't have to be nice, if you don't want to. I don't mind."

_I would hex that woman into oblivion if she were here right now. The things I have done to get close to the Dursleys, to watch over you. All the compromises on your behalf only to inadvertently hurt you. _

"I am so sorry, Harry!" She cried suddenly, pulling Harry close and hugging him.

Harry was startled by Mrs Figg's actions. Awkwardly, he hung his arms around her neck and hugged her back.

"I'm sorry too," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Half laughing and half crying at his awkward but sincere reply Mrs Figg composed herself. _Where is this coming from? I have watched him for five years. Is it because he is letting his guard down? Or maybe it is because he is sick and Petunia does not care. I was spitting mad at Petunia when I was talking with Augusta and now I'm weeping like a little girl._

Pulling out of the hug after a moment, Harry nervously raised his arms to her and asked in a timid voice, "Would you help me please?" It was a peace offering and Harry was partly afraid Mrs Figg had changed her mind.

Mrs Figg obliged and gently pulled the shirt over his head. There was a splattering of red pox marks on his chest. Mrs Figg wondered how long Harry had been suffering before she noticed his ailment. Beneath the red dots was a nasty bruise on his ribs.

She touched the bruise and Harry winced.

"Sorry Harry, I didn't realize it was still hurt. What happened?"

"Jus' playin'," Harry muttered under his breath as he started to work on unbuckling his belt. Harry sucked in his gut, grabbed the belt strap with both hands and pulled as hard as he could. The boy was as thin as a reed and looked like a corpse with his stomach pulled in.

After the third try Mrs Figg stepped in to help. She had a difficult time herself unbuckling the belt and Harry sighed contentedly once he was free. The ill-fitting clothes slipped right over his hips and dropped to the floor. They looked big enough to wrap around Harry's emaciated waist twice.

Harry stood bare before Mrs Figg. She could see the belt had been synched so tight it had left a red ring around his bony waist. There was no way he could have fastened it so tightly himself.

"Who fastened your belt Harry?"

"Uncle Vernon."

"Tell him not to fasten it so tight. I could barely unbuckle it. By Merlin's beard, how do you manage to?" She asked, the Wizarding World oath slipping out in her distress.

Harry turned a bright red. Mrs Figg thought she had embarrassed him until she saw his hands were rolled up into two tiny little fists.

"I bloomin' can't!" Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes trying not to cry.

"I've had accidents at school cause I can't. They make fun of me for not bein' potty trained," Harry almost sobbed. "And last week he had to come get me 'cause Aunt Petunia was getting her hair done. He was so mad he poked another hole in it n' said it wasn't tight enough if I still shat m'self.

His sudden outburst was shocking. The vulgarity of his language felt horribly honest. "Why would Vernon do that?" Mrs Figg coldly asked.

"He does it 'cause I whinged about being hungry."

Mrs Figg leaned back on the toilet, recoiling from his statement in shock. Images of Harry baring bruises, pilfering apples from her yard and his fear of the Dursleys in general raced through her mind. A foggy meeting with the Headmaster drifted into focus.

**oOo**

_"He shook Harry, Albus. He shook him hard. Then dragged him into the house by his arm. The toes of Harry's feet were barely touching the ground, the boy was positively white with fear."_

_"Did you see him hit Harry?"_

_"No, but I have seen bruises on him. Just the occasional glimpse of his back or wrists. The clothes are so large it is difficult to see."_

_"He could have been playing with his cousin, Dudley. They _are_ boys."_

_Mrs Figg shook her head. "You don't get marks like this from rough housing. Harry doesn't get enough to eat either."_

_"I find that difficult to believe. Vernon and Dudley look very well fed. Petunia is thin but healthy looking. With the monthly stipend and Vernon's considerable Muggle income they have ample resources to feed themselves."_

_"I have watched him collect apples from my yard on the way home from school. He eats one or two on the spot."_

_"Maybe he likes the apples."_

_"When I invite them in for tea and biscuits he licks the plate. Dudley always expects more and will take Harry's if I don't separate them at the table. Harry is far too thin."_

_"James was always lean. He takes after his father in many ways."_

_"I am concerned that he is not being properly looked after. In comparison to his cousin Harry looks like a vagabond. It's not just the poorly fitted clothes either; Harry is rarely clean. His personal hygiene is distressing."_

_"Boys of that age often resent baths. I must have something more concrete before risking the safety of the blood wards," Albus answered pouring two cups of tea. "Continue your watch. Remember the enemy may try to find Harry and possibly attack him once he is beyond the safety of the home's property lines. That is the weakness of the wards. There is plenty of tea if you would like more, Arabella."_

**oOo**

_The barmy old man has tampered with my mind!_

Mrs Figg leapt to her feet so fast she almost knocked Harry down. Her hands shook furiously as anger twisted her face.

Harry had dropped to the floor in response. He cowered in the corner between the bathtub and wall. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he pleaded.

Through the red haze of her rage Mrs Figg saw Harry's naked little body curled up in self-defense at her feet. With deep pity she realized Harry had deliberately rolled away from her to better protect his stomach and face.

The anger fled as quickly as it had come yet left her with a deflated feeling. Once her emotions were under control Mrs Figg knelt down next to Harry and waited patiently for him to realize he was not going to be assaulted.

"Harry," she called softly. "Harry, please look at me. You have absolutely no reason to be sorry. It is I who must apologize to you."

"Why?" Harry sniffed over his shoulder. "You didn't do nuthin."

Mrs Figg sighed. "First, I lost my temper and frightened you. Second, I have made you feel like you are less important than Dudley. And finally, perhaps the worst thing of all, I did nothing. You may not understand how I have hurt you but I assure you that was not my intent."

His eyes marveled at the enormity of having an adult apologize to him. To recognize he had been hurt even though he did not understand why Mrs Figg seemed to think she had done something to him. She hadn't hit him at all.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he became skeptical of her apology.

His eyes were so expressive that Mrs Figg could see Harry's emotions play out. On an impulse she pulled out her wand.

"I swear to you on my magic that I will make this right." The tip of the wand shimmered sealing the oath.

A silent O was on Harry's face. He was still stunned when Mrs Figg slid her hands under Harry's arm pits and picked him up. She was holding him over the bath tub when he came to his senses and started to thrash about.

"NO!" Harry shouted and pulled his legs up.

She quickly put Harry back on the ground before she accidentally dropped him. His chest heaved as he loudly gulped in air.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"Nothin," he answered a bit to quickly for Mrs Figg's liking.

He inserted a shaky little hand into hers and sat down on the side of the tube staring at the kaleidoscope of colors. His grip tightened as he leaned over the bathtub. Carefully Harry reached through the bubbles and skimmed the top of the water with a single finger.

Satisfied with the results Harry stood up and allowed Mrs Figg to help him into the bathtub. He had barely settled into the water before hurling an onslaught of questions at Mrs Figg. Somehow she managed to get Harry cleaned up between talking about magic.

The only time Harry was silent was when Mrs Figg washed his hair. His head swayed heavily from side to side under her fingers as she worked in the shampoo. A geyser of water sprayed from the tip of her wand rinsing the soap from his hair.

Gently she ran a wide toothed comb through his hair untangling the snarled mess. Harry's head would bob against his bare chest when the comb caught in his hair.

_This has to hurt. Sadly he has probably suffered much worse behind the closed doors of the Dursley's home._

Nearly twenty minutes later Harry was clean. She had just finished trimming his fingernails so he wouldn't spread the rash by scratching the pox marks. Harry's lips were turning blue and his fingertips were wrinkled from being in the water for so long. And he still had questions.

"Harry please, I cannot tell you everything in a single night. You will need to learn these things over time," Mrs Figg reasoned with him. "I know you have many questions but have patience, the answers will come. Now climb out of there before you freeze."

She helped Harry out of the bathtub noting the petulant look on his face.

"Tomorrow I will introduce you to parchment and quill. I will answer five questions you write down for me," Mrs Figg said as she carefully patted him dry.

"What's a quill and parchment?" Harry asked innocently.

She smiled at his sly wit and opened the anti itch salve.

"I will tell you what a quill and parchment is because it is used in both worlds. A quill is a bird's feather used to hold ink for writing much like a pen. Parchment is what you will write your questions on, which is how you will ask about what you would like to know from now on."

"Can I see what I look like?"

To Harry's amazement Mrs Figg used her wand to shut the bathroom door, revealing a full-length mirror hanging on the back. She then slid Harry's glasses onto his nose.

Harry walked over to the mirror and looked at himself. It was almost like having freckles all over his body. He touched the red pox marks as he counted them.

"Be careful Harry. If you scratch them they will spread."

He stopped touching the blemishes, turned around and craned his neck trying to see his back.

"My back is badder."

"Worse Harry. My back is worse," she corrected. "Yes it is. I think your backpack rubbed the sores, spreading them. Come here so I can put some salve on you."

"Why do I look green? What's that stuff?"

"You have Dragon Pox. It is common for young wizards and witches to get it. When you are better your system will have developed immunity to it. The ailment is not as severe for the young. Green skin is one of the symptoms."

Mrs Figg held up the jar of salve, scooping some out on a finger.

"This is an anti itching salve."

Harry smiled when she answered two more questions.

"I know what you are doing imp," she said, dotting his nose with the salve.

"What's an imp?"

"That will be the first question I show you how to write tomorrow."

Mrs Figg searched his body for red blemishes and applied the salve to each one. Her sharp eyes took inventory of every bruise and welt on Harry. With great difficulty she managed to keep her voice steady when she said, "There, I think that is all of them. Do you feel better now?"

"Loads better, thank you."

She stood up and put away the salve then pulled out one of the silk nightshirts.

Harry watched Mrs Figg curiously as she unfolded the nightshirt. His look of curiosity turned to aversion.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Harry said with disdain.

"This is not a dress. It is a nightshirt made for boys. You will feel much better in it. Feel it," she said coaxing him into touching the nightclothes.

He rubbed the fabric between his hands. The silk was cool and ran smoothly through his fingers.

"It feels nice and soft," Harry reluctantly admitted.

"The silk is a very light fabric and will keep you cool. When you are hot you are more likely to scratch yourself. Nightshirts are still used in the wizarding world to sleep in. My sons and grandsons all wore them until they were nearly teenagers," she said, sliding the shirt over his head.

Harry smoothed the nightshirt down his sides. True to her word, the nightshirt felt nice against his bare skin. It stopped a hand width below his knees. When he felt a breeze down below, Harry found himself wishing it was a little longer. He gave a little shiver.

"It kind of tickles."

"This is what you will be wearing over the next few days," Mrs Figg told him as she laced up the top. "It is clean and soft now but your pox marks will start to weep. We will give you a few baths each day to keep you clean and to help stop the itching. Changing your nightshirts and cleaning them will help stop the pox from spreading. Madam Longbottom sent four, so you will always have a clean one ready," she explained to him.

Mrs Figg put a gentle hand on his shoulder and ushered Harry into the living room. She noticed Harry was holding down the nightshirt awkwardly as he walked.

_I will have to get some underwear for him from Marks and Spencer so he doesn't feel so exposed. _

"Would you like to rest on the couch Harry?"

"Yes please," he graciously accepted with a sigh. Harry was worn out and had been hoping to rest since getting out of school.

Once Harry was on the couch she stacked some pillows behind him until Harry was comfortable. She straightened Harry's nightshirt then fanned a lightweight quilt over him.

Snowy, Mrs Figg's longhaired white kneazle, leapt onto the quilt as it drifted down over Harry. She chased the fluttering blanket down to Harry's feet. When Harry moved his legs to make room for Snowy, she batted at his feet playfully. If Harry even twitched a toe, Snowy would jump over and attack the quilt where it moved. It was a great deal of fun for both of them.

"Would you like some tea and biscuits, Harry?" Mrs Figg asked with a bemused look on her face.

Harry's stomach rumbled his reply. His cheeks flushed with shame and he guiltily pressed his hand against his gurgling tummy, wishing it would stop. If he were at the dinning room table, the Dursleys would have dismissed him. Uncle Vernon would then force Harry to empty his plate into the garbage disposal for being rude and ungrateful.

There were a few times Harry had been so hungry he actually begged to keep his food. It never did any good. Vernon would belt him if he took too long, so Harry would sometimes cry as he watched his food get mulched and washed down the drain.

Harry waited nervously for Mrs Figg's reaction.

_Please please please don't be mad. I can't help it when my tummy does that._

Mrs Figg's wrinkled hand closed over his and gently pried it away from his stomach. After laying Harry's arm next to his side, she pressed her ear to his tummy, which promptly rumbled again. Mrs Figg lifted her head and patted Harry's belly.

"I think chocolate chip sounds good too," Mrs Figg smiled as she talked to Harry's stomach.

Harry smiled shyly and softly replied, "Yes please, that's my favorite." Each syllable of favorite was carefully enunciated.

"Try to rest until it is ready. If you need anything, call for me." She tucked the quilt in around Harry and departed to the kitchen humming contentedly.

Harry looked at all of the smiling faces in the Figg family pictures scattered around the room. He could still hear Mrs Figg humming as she bustled around the kitchen. Snowy had draped herself across his ankles and was purring loudly. His feet vibrated softly with the cat's motor. Harry could hardly keep his eyes open.

It felt weird, in a good way, to have someone wait on him. Even though he was a little embarrassed about being undressed earlier. Especially since, it had been at least a year since his Aunt or Uncle had helped him with anything other than his belt.

He had been reluctant at first, mostly because Harry knew how dirty he was. The kids at school told him everyday and the teachers kept their distance from him too. Mrs Figg's persistent yet kind request to help him had won. Harry was just happy that she didn't recoil from him like most adults seemed to do or make cutting remarks about his cleanliness.

The only humiliating moment was when he confessed that he had soiled himself on multiple occasions at school. It was a hard thing to admit, but Mrs Figg had seen that he could not unbuckle the belt himself.

Normally, he would never have told her about messing himself but she had been so nice and he wasn't feeling well. At that moment he had felt like an uncorked champagne bottle and his darkest secret had come bubbling out of him.

At his pronouncement Mrs Figg had immediately got to her feet looking madder than he had ever seen anyone in his life. She was even worse than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. It had scarred him badly. But Mrs Figg hadn't kicked or used the belt on him. She even apologized for scaring him.

Afterwards she had bathed him. It made him feel a little babyish but Mrs Figg had been rather straightforward about it all. Directing him this way and that between his questions. Mrs Figg had even softly hummed as she'd washed him.

The best part was when she had cleaned his hair. Harry's head tingled pleasantly when he thought about it. She had used her wand to wet his hair. The shampoo was liberally applied and she gently massaged it into his scalp. Her fingers ran through his hair unraveling the snags. She even wiped the soap away before it could get in his eyes. When she rinsed his hair out with her wand Harry's head ache washed away too. At peace and comfortable Harry's eyes drifted shut.

**oOo**

_Steam was rising around Harry from the scalding hot water he was standing in. His skin was red from the knees on down. _

_"It hurts," Harry said lifting one foot and then the other until he fell. He had banged his chin on the way down, bloodying his lip._

_"That's what you get for playing around," Petunia scolded as she roughly soaped him. Petunia pulled him to an upright position closer to her. She poured some shampoo onto his head and rubbed it to a thick lather. When her hands became entangled in his hair she jerked them free._

_"Ow," Harry complained. When soap ran into his eyes Harry started to cry._

_"Shut up and lean back," Petunia shouted._

_"It's too hot."_

_Despite his protests she lowered him into the water to rinse his hair. Harry's wailing was grating on her nerves just like Dudley's did. She fumed about her son's terrible behavior and the unkind remarks she had overheard from a neighbor. _

_"Why won't you just behave? Screaming and carrying on all the time. They whisper about what a brat you are. What am I going to do? You have to stop acting like this." Petunia ranted on about her own son as she continued to get rougher and rougher with Harry._

_"Owwie," Harry cried, his entire body was red and he was starting to squirm._

_"Dudley! Just stop." Petunia yelled then pushed Harry under..._

**oOo**

Harry thrashed about on the couch, starting to choke, before he rolled off onto the floor and screamed.

Mrs Figg ran into the living room. Harry had his back pressed against the couch and had a wild look in his eyes. He stopped screaming the minute Mrs Figg took a step towards him.

"Please no. I'll stop. I'll be good. I promise. I didn't mean to scream," Harry frantically begged.

"Harry," she called softly.

_I should take him and run. _

"Harry, it's Mrs Figg. You're safe with me," she comforted him from a distance and crouched down to the floor so he could see her eye to eye.

Harry trembled as he watched Mrs Figg cautiously.

In a surprising action Harry held his arms out to her, just as he had in the bathroom - reaching out to Mrs Figg for help.

Mrs Figg picked Harry up and stood in one fluid motion. Her right hand supported his bottom and the left gently patted Harry's back. _I doubt he weighs three stone, _she thought as she rotated her torso back and forth comfortingly.

He trembled in her arms, silently crying. Occasionally his whole body would shudder from the effort of stifling his sobs. She could feel the dampness of his tears on her shoulder. Harry's fingers clutched at her back afraid to let go.

"You're a good boy, Harry. Nobody is going to hurt you. I've got you now."

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Thank you to everyone who placed an alert or left a review. It is good to know someone enjoyed it.


	3. Leave me alone

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason. Abuse is mentioned in this chapter. **

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

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**Chapter 3: Leave me alone**

Harry still clung to Mrs Figg as she worked in the kitchen. He had not said a word since she had picked him up. Even after he stopped sniffling, Harry held onto her tightly, resisting any attempt she made to sit him down. His raven black head rested in the crook of her left shoulder watching her use magic to make the tea and biscuits.

Mrs Figg felt Harry yawn while she hummed softly to him. Harry's left hand drifted up to tug at the right collar of her blouse. He rolled the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. She briefly pressed her cheek against Harry's head in response.

_He is such a loving child. How can they treat him so cruelly? _She thought to herself just as one of her familiars alerted her to a visitor. The prowling Kneazles watched the neighborhood, acting as sentinels for the retired Auror.

The animated kitchen utensils paused and Mrs Figg closed her eyes to home in on her familiar's senses. She peered out through the cat's eyes to watch the red haired, sharp-featured woman cross the street. Once again she shook her head at the sudden hostility that arose within her. Tufty arched his back and hissed in response to the antagonistic emotion. _It's that wretched woman, Petunia._

Harry was suddenly plopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes widening due to being dropped into the chair unceremoniously.

"Harry, stay right here," Mrs Figg commanded before marching from the room.

Tibbles, another one of Mrs Figg's Kneazles, leaped onto Harry's lap and circled once before curling up. He gently stroked her fur. She gave a pleasant cry that was half a meow and half a purr. Her paw patted Harry's leg appreciatively in response. He continued to pet her, which had effectively distracted and pinned him to the chair.

Mrs Figg calmed herself as she stalked to the front door. She forced herself to wait for the doorbell to ring. After waiting a minute she had managed to put a convincing smile on her face. _It would not bode well to tip my hand too soon. I have Harry for a week or so. It is ample time to prepare for what needs to be done._

"Petunia! Here, let me take that from you," Mrs Figg said as she took the brown bag full of clothing from Petunia's bony hands.

"Thank you again, Arabella" Petunia replied from the doorstep as she let go of the bag.

"Harry is resting at the moment. He has a bit of a fever and is very tired," Mrs Figg answered, excusing Petunia from seeing Harry.

"How bad is it?" Petunia hesitantly asked.

"Pox marks are scattered all over his body. The worst seems to be on his back and around his waist. I think the belt and backpack he had on scratched him, spreading it in those areas. The oatmeal bath and salve I put on him should help to keep him from scratching and making it even worse," Mrs Figg answered.

"You gave him a bath?" Petunia's face paled as she asked worriedly.

"Yes I did," Arabella answered, a little more curtly than she had intended. Her blood began to boil, now realising why Petunia was worried. The various injuries, hidden by Harry's oversized clothes, had been revealed to her when she had bathed him. _How long have they been hiding this? Harry has worn the hand-me-downs for two, possibly three years._

Panic flashed across Petunia's face.

Reining in her temper Mrs Figg smiled sympathetically.

"It is difficult to handle a wayward child. My husband firmly believed in the saying 'to spare the rod spoiled the child'. We had three boys, what else can you do?"

Mrs Figg's skin crawled when Petunia seized her hand and bile burned the back of her throat when Petunia answered, "I knew you would understand Arabella. Thank you again."

"You're welcome, Petunia."

Having heard what she wanted to. Petunia missed the dark menacing tone in Mrs Figg's voice.

Mrs Figg waved at the departing woman before closing the door. She kicked the back of her heel against the doorframe in frustration.

Storming back to the kitchen, she tossed the sack on the table and began sifting through the things Petunia had brought over. Everything obviously came from Dudley. There were two pairs of pajamas, a few pairs of socks with holes in them and some underclothes that she could not bring herself to touch.

Harry's face turned a bright shade of crimson as he watched Mrs Figg sort through the second hand clothes knowing they were for him.

"Did she ask to see me?" Harry croaked from his seat. He could tell that Mrs Figg was upset which made him nervous.

Mrs Figg looked up and smiled sadly at Harry who was watching her from the table with hope in his eyes.

"No, she did not." _I would not have allowed her to even if she had. _Mrs Figg thought angrily_. _

"Oh," Harry replied disappointedly. "More of Dudley's stuff in the sack?" Harry asked as he shamefully averted his eyes.

"Yes," Mrs Figg barked. She suddenly snatched the bag, swept everything into it and stomped into the sitting room.

Harry shooed Tibbles from his lap and hopped to the floor. His little bare feet smacked against the tiles as he chased after Mrs Figg.

Mrs Figg threw the bag of castoffs into the fireplace.

_"Áccio Harry's clothes!"_

The grubby clothes flew from the bathroom to Mrs Figg's out stretched hand. Once caught, she threw them in with the rest.

"_Incidio!_"

The rags in the fireplace ignited and burned to ash before Harry's eyes. He stood rigidly by Mrs Figg as worry churned in his stomach. His hands worked nervously in a washing motion. _What will Aunt Petunia do when I tell her I don't have any clothes?_

Mrs Figg's arm drifted down and around Harry's stiff shoulders. She squeezed him comfortingly.

"Well, I feel better now. How about you?" She asked happily, looking down at the distraught boy.

A laugh exploded unbidden from Harry's lips. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but a snort of mirth escaped from his nose, which just cracked him up even more. Mrs Figg laughed heartily with him before picking Harry up and giving him a hug.

She carried him into the kitchen and with a final flick of her wand the table was set. The biscuits were fresh right from the oven and the warm chocolate chips were very gooey. Dark strings of chocolate ran from finger to finger as Harry pulled them apart. He blew on the biscuits, trying to cool them before shoving the treat in his mouth. He opened his mouth between chews to vent the hot contents.

It was disgusting to watch but the delight on Harry's chocolate smeared face was too endearing to admonish him for poor table manners. Between bites he smiled timidly at Mrs Figg. She smiled in return as she nibbled at her own biscuit. She couldn't help but notice the way Harry hovered protectively over his plate like it was going to be snatched away at any moment.

Harry had three cookies before he relented. Although he would have liked to eat more it hurt his throat terribly. He could only force himself to swallow so many times before almost tearing up from the pain. The happy look left his face when he realized that he did not feel well.

Mrs Figg pressed the back of her hand against Harry's flushed cheeks. His temperature was rising. The cool bath had helped to bring it down but now it was coming back. Not wanting to set a bad example of being lazy by summoning everything to her, Mrs Figg stood up and said, "There is a fever reducing potion in the basket from Madam Longbottom."

"What's a potion?" Harry asked warily, not sure that he liked the sound of it.

"Another question, Harry?" Mrs Figg asked with a hint of humor in her voice. She pulled a washcloth from one of the cabinet drawers and wetted it in the sink. Armed with the wet washcloth Mrs Figg started to wipe the chocolate from Harry.

Irritably, Harry grabbed the towel from Mrs Figg and finished scrubbing his face by himself.

Mrs Figg smiled warmly at Harry as he handed the washcloth back. To Harry's irritation, however, she again attacked a remnant of chocolate on his chin before putting the towel in the sink.

"We will discuss potions in more depth tomorrow since you will be adding it to your list of five questions. For now, think of this particular potion as medicine," Mrs Figg answered before turning to leave the kitchen.

Harry made a face behind her back. He was right. It _was_ something he wasn't going to like. Although he had never been given any medicine before, he had seen Dudley take some and saw his bitter reaction. Harry definitely did not want to take this potion.

Mrs Figg returned with the basket and set it on the table. Harry stood up on his knees in the chair for a better look. He was rather curious about what the elegant silver haired woman had sent for him.

The spare nightshirts were laid out on the table in a neat pile. The anti itching salve and oatmeal powder (which Harry thought was bubble bath) were set out next and then a pair of mittens on the nightgowns.

"What're those for?" Harry asked. It wasn't cold enough to wear mittens.

"I will put them on your hands tonight when you go to bed so you don't scratch yourself while you sleep. I had forgotten about that little trick. Fortunately Augusta did not."

"Who is Augusta?"

"Madame Longbottom to you, Harry. I have known her for many years. We were dorm mates at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She has been my dearest friend ever since." Mrs Figg answered as she pulled out a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Harry leaned across the table, practically laying on it, trying to reach the book. Mrs Figg handed it to him so he could look at it.

His fingers traced the engraved lettering "B - E - E - D - L – E… Beeeeed llll the Baaard." He spelled the first name and then sounded it out.

While Harry was distracted with the book Mrs Figg circled around the table to stand beside him with the fever-reducing potion. She poured out a small cup full for Harry.

Harry looked up with a grim expression on his face before sitting down on his heels and leaning back against the chair, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Here you go, Harry. This will make you feel better," Mrs Figg said, ignoring his posture of resistance.

He was just about to shake his head no, when he started to think of all the nice things Mrs Figg had done for him. Harry forced himself to relax and hesitantly reached for the cup. "Do I have to?" He pleaded.

"It will truly help, Harry. If I didn't think so, I would not ask you to drink it," Mrs Figg replied sympathetically, handing him the cup.

"It hurts when I swallow," Harry added miserably.

Mrs Figg ran her fingers gently through his hair. She took his hand with the cup and guided it to his lips and smiled kindly. "I know, Harry. I'm sorry it hurts but I know you can do this for me."

With one last beseeching look Harry tipped his head back and forced the potion down his throat. It didn't taste that bad, he decided, but it did leave a bitter after taste in his mouth. He smacked his lips a couple of times as he licked the roof of his mouth, trying to clear the lingering bitterness.

After warming his tea with her wand, Mrs Figg added some honey to make it sweeter. "Try this, Harry. It will help wash away the taste. The warm tea and honey might sooth your throat a little too," She said sitting down next to Harry.

Obediently, Harry did as he was told. The tea tasted a far sight better than the potion and after a couple of sips the foul taste was gone. It didn't hurt his sore throat as much either. He quietly sipped at the tea, stealing a look at Mrs Figg every so often.

_Aunt Petunia spoils Dudley all the time and he never thanks her._

Harry patted Mrs Figg's hand and steadily looked at her with his gleaming green eyes. "Thank you for takin' care of me," he said suddenly.

She closed his hand in hers. "You are most welcome, Harry."

Harry spent the rest of the evening on the couch cat napping. Whenever he woke, he would immediately look for Mrs Figg. He never cried out again but he didn't calm down until he saw her.

After seeing Harry panic, Mrs Figg rarely left his side. The constant presence of Mrs Figg's familiars helped to relax Harry. The warmth of the furry little creatures laying on or beside Harry was very comforting to the sick child. They also alerted her when Harry woke up, if she was not in the room with him.

Around eight o'clock, Mrs Figg scooped Harry up from the couch and carried him to the guest bedroom. Tufty followed them to the room and leaped onto the foot of the bed, waiting for Harry to get settled in before crawling up to lay next to his chest. Harry's hand subconsciously stroked the Kneezle twice before coming to a rest on the soft fur.

"Don't go," Harry murmured sleepily as Mrs Figg pulled his glasses off and set them on the night stand.

"Would you like me to read to you for a little while?" Mrs Figg asked as she slipped the soft mittens onto his hands.

"Pease," Harry slurred in reply. One eye opened just enough to look at her.

With a gesture of her wand the rocker glided across the floor next to Harry's bed. Mrs Figg sat down and summoned the storybook.

Even with Mrs Figg reading, Harry's right eye would flutter open every few minutes to see if she was still there. She read to him for nearly fifteen minutes before Harry finally fell asleep for the night.

Mrs Figg set the book on the nightstand before turning off the reading light and turning on the night light. Tufty's eyes glowed in the dark from his post, watching over his ward.

It was nearly nine when Mrs Figg activated the floo.

"Augusta Longbottom," she called out to the floo network.

A moment later Augusta's head emerged from the fire. "Arabella," she nodded.

"Would you like to join me for some cider?" Mrs Figg invited.

The hearth of the fire expanded to allow Augusta to walk on through.

"A pint of cider would be nice. I've noticed how you avoid mentioning your guest over the floo. Is your home secure enough for his safety?"

"I believe so. There have not been any signs of trouble over the last few years. Although certain precautions have always been in place such as never speaking his name on the floo network," Mrs Figg replied after considering her friend's question.

There was no doubting the woman was very astute. Augusta had entered the political arena where it was a necessity to know what was left unsaid and how to read those around you. Mrs Figg often wondered if Augusta was a practiced Legilimens.

Some skills were only taught to the most talented or those with the funds to acquire the training. Augusta was from a very wealthy family after all and had married into the Longbottom Family to preserve the sanctity of her pure blood lineage. She was free from any need to provide for herself or her family. Augusta had the connections, funding and ample talent to learn this art.

On a whim she had taken an interest in the Wizarding courts. With her noble lineage she swiftly acquired great influence over the Wizengamot. Augusta never sought to be the head of the court but she was a major power who could sway any vote. When her son, Frank, and daughter-in-law, Alice, were committed to Saint Mungo's hospital Augusta had stepped down from the Wizengamot to raise Neville.

Augusta sat down at the kitchen table folding her hands gracefully in her lap. "You're going to keep Harry, aren't you?"

Mrs Figg looked sharply over her shoulder, spilling some cider on the floor, before replying confidently, "Yes, I am."

Augusta nodded her head in affirmation.

"How are we going to make this happen? You cannot run away with the boy. It is not safe for him or you. His relatives will need to be proven as unfit guardians. Then you will have to compete with the rest of the Wizarding World for the right to be his guardian."

_Leave it to Augusta to be the voice of reason, _Arabella thought to herself as she wiped up the spill.

"Do you have any suggestions for us?" Arabella asked pointing out that she had not missed the fact Augusta was already planning on joining her plight. After placing two glass pints of cider on the table she motioned with her wand over the drinks and cast an incantation. The glasses frosted over and the cider darkened as it chilled.

"Perhaps," Augusta answered slowly. She contemplated the dark cider in the glass before her and took a drink before continuing. "Can you honestly say the family is abusive or grossly negligent of their guardianship or are you caught up in the heat of the moment? Can you prove the allegation?"

"I can share my memories of today's events. There might be some other useful memories of his treatment as well. But I have never witnessed physical abuse, just the various injuries I saw on his body today," Arabella said with a slight shudder.

"We should begin to gather the evidence. I have a family metaphysician whom the Longbottoms have been using for years. His credibility in the court would be beyond reproach. If there are any lasting signs of abuse, he could find it."

"With some preparation, it will not be difficult to remove Harry from the care of the Dursleys," Augusta nodded.

"How did Harry wind up with the Dursleys anyway?' She continued after a moment. "I was a member of the Wizengamot and sat on many of the trials but I don't remember anything about Harry's custody. Of course, I could have missed it, it was a chaotic time for everyone," Augusta said quietly as she thought about it.

She had been caught up with admitting Frank and Alice to St Mungos, not to mention caring for Neville. It was entirely possible that Harry's custody had been addressed in court while she was absent.

"I honestly don't know. The war was coming to an end; nearly all of the war criminals had been captured. Bartimus Crouch and I had a falling out over the tactics Aurors were employing to apprehend suspects. Some of the inmates were denied the basic right of a trial. Even the traitorous Sirius Black, may he rot in hell, deserved his turn in court. It was a dark time that I was ashamed to have taken part of. If it wasn't for the information I was gathering for the Order, I would have quit long before," Arabella shook her head sadly and took a deep drink of cider before finishing, "Then they just started releasing people, like Lucius Malfoy, from Azkaban. The wealthy convicts were released in less than three days. It was a good thing Albus had approached me about Harry being placed in protective custody shortly after the Potters were murdered or I would have..."

"Wait. It was just Albus? Why not Bartimus? He was the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement,' Augusta said abruptly. "If anyone would be responsible for assigning this task it would be him. Albus may have strongly influenced the courts decision but the enforcement would have come from Bartimus Crouch. He was still the head at that time. Barty Crouch Jr was not revealed as a Death Eater until the following week."

Mrs Figg stopped and thought for a moment.

"Maybe Albus already knew about Barty's status. Albus has always handled Harry's needs. I always figured it was to minimize the number of people who knew where to find Harry. There are a large number of former supporters of You-Know-Who that are free. Everything handled by the Aurors is thoroughly documented and available to the public. Even sealed files can be opened if the price is right. It would have jeopardized his safety to go through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Yet he placed you, an Auror, as a protector," Augusta noted.

"I am not compensated for this. I retired before Bartimus was removed from his position. Albus had approached me as a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Who did James and Lily name as Harry's guardian? It was no secret that Lily and Petunia did not get along. She did not even attend the Potter's wedding, so I sincerely doubt Petunia would have been named guardian. Lily's parents died at the wedding and James' died shortly after. They knew You-Know-Who was hunting them. James would not have left Harry alone and destitute. At the very least someone would have been responsible for handling the Potter estate," Augusta spoke her thoughts on the matter, hoping Arabella would notice if she missed anything.

"I don't know, Augusta, maybe Albus was. He seems to have a hand in every aspect of Harry's life. Who knows!" Arabella replied with exasperation.

"If we could find out who has control of this, we gain one step toward getting custody of Harry. I can discretely ask around about the matter. We also need a sympathetic ear on the Wizengamot to take up our cause," Augusta said fervently.

She was really warming up to the new challenge. It had been years since she had entered a political battle. Anything involving Harry Potter was definitely political and it appeared her opponent was no less than Albus Dumbledore.

"Augusta?" Arabella tentatively asked.

"Yes?"

"I think Albus has manipulated me and possibly altered my mind," Arabella admitted cautiously.

"How so?"

"Ever since I found out Harry was sick my emotions have swung radically. I cried over my treatment of Harry during the last few years and then nearly set out to attack the Dursleys. Petunia seemed to be a dear friend but I think I actually do despise the woman. It all started as an act to gain their confidence but I either convinced myself it was true or I have been coerced."

Augusta paled a little as her friend described symptoms of a powerful Suggestion Spell being used against her. She would never know if her memory had been Obliviated, only a skilled metaphysician could determine that. There was also the possibility of a potion being used.

"I think it would be best if my metaphysician made a house call and examined both of you," Augusta nodded once Arabella had finished.

They both paused to take a drink of the cider before them and during that moment their eyes met over the top of their glasses. Augusta gently probed along her friend's natural mental defenses, feeling for evidence of a forced entrance. She sighed when nothing could be found. That left two possibilities. Either Arabella's mind had never been breached or the Legilimens was by far more gifted than Augusta.

"Doesn't Amelia Bones have a niece that is the same age as Harry and Neville?" Arabella suddenly questioned.

After a moment Augusta nodded her head.

"Indeed she does. Susan is her name I believe, named after Amelia Susan Bones."

"Should I extend an invitation to Amelia for the Pox Party? Her brother Edgar and I served in the Order together. Do you think it would be enough to gain her support?"

"Amelia has a strong reputation for being fair," Augusta said. "Fortunately, I think Harry's case will support itself. This would still open a line of communication with the Ministry of Magic for us and the Wizengamot. Inviting Susan Bones over is a good idea. However, our greatest concern is securing Harry under your custody."

As their pints gradually emptied the conversation drifted to catching up with each other. Eventually Augusta stood to depart for the evening.

"Well, is there anything else you need?"

"More clothes for Harry. He has nothing other than those nightshirts now. I burned the rags he was wearing along with the rubbish Petunia brought over for him."

Augusta laughed richly at her friend's impulsive action. "Good night Arabella."

The women hugged briefly.

"See you tomorrow, Augusta, and thank you for everything," Arabella said before pulling away.

Arabella checked on Harry before retiring herself for the night. To her astonishment Harry's bed was empty and the blanket had been pulled off. She looked around the room and noticed a pair of golden, glowing eyes watching her from the partially open bedroom closet.

She walked over and opened the door wider to find Tufty laying on a corner of the blanket, which Arabella now saw was wrapped around Harry. He was curled up on the closet floor; his mitten-covered hands tucked beneath his cheek as a pillow. Despite the hard wood floor he was sleeping deeply.

"Why are you on the floor, Harry?" she asked softly as she shook her head. She kneeled down and picked him up from the floor, dislodging the Kneezle from the blanket.

She put the boy back in bed and straightened the bedding before kissing the top of his head.

"Sleep well Harry."

Harry extended his arms over his head and straightened his legs, giving a full body stretch. He felt the soft mattress beneath him and stopped to ponder his location. Groping around the night table next to him, he found his glasses. It was difficult to put them on, with the mittens still on his hands. Finally, he managed, and now that he could see clearly, Harry took in his surroundings. _It wasn't a dream. I really am at Mrs Figg's. _

The closet door was wide open. He remembered that he couldn't stay asleep last night. Being out in the open with a whole room around him felt uncomfortable. So, he had moved to the closet thinking it might help. The enclosed space had been comforting, but he couldn't bring himself to shut the door all the way.

Patting the smooth cotton sheets beneath him, Harry smiled. _Mrs Figg must've put me back. _He looked at the book on the nightstand. _She even read to me. Nobody has ever read to me before. _A smile crept across his face. _Maybe she likes me more than Dudley._

A grumble from his stomach spurred Harry out of bed. He breathed in deeply, smelling eggs and bacon. Following the scent Harry stumbled to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he got there, however, he stood awkwardly by the kitchen door since he was not sure what to do.

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs Figg greeted brightly.

"Mornin' Mrs Figg," Harry smiled back. Stirred out of his confusion, Harry entered the kitchen and after removing the mittens he started to set the table. Unable to reach the upper cabinets Harry asked, "May I have two glasses please?"

Mrs Figg retrieved the requested items and watched him work as she continued cooking.

Harry pulled out a glass container of milk from the refrigerator and put it on the table. He climbed onto a chair and stood up to carefully pour one cup of milk. To Mrs Figg's amazement not a single drop was spilled by the meticulous six year old.

As he climbed down from the chair Mrs Figg called, "I would like some milk too please."

He looked at Mrs Figg with a funny look on his face. She didn't look angry in the least bit. _She thought I poured it for me._

A brilliant smile lit his face. "Yes Ma'am!" He scurried happily back up into the chair and filled the second glass for himself.

The two finished their tasks about the same time and sat down together at the table.

"Thank you," they said at the same time. After a pause both of them laughed.

Harry waited patiently for Mrs Figg to serve herself. Everything smelled wonderful but he wasn't sure what he was allowed to eat. To his complete surprise, however, Mrs Figg dished a spoon full of scrambled eggs onto his plate and two pieces of bacon. She was even spreading grape jelly on a piece of toast for him. Harry smiled from ear to ear as he watched his plate get filled first.

"Go ahead and eat, Harry, there is plenty here and you are welcome to anything you want," Mrs Figg prompted when he didn't start right away.

Despite his intentions Harry could not eat everything on the plate. His stomach just was not accustomed to this much food and being sick had reduced his appetite as well. This did not prevent him from sitting politely at the table until Mrs Figg was finished.

Once she was done, Harry dragged a chair to the sink so he could do the dishes.

Out of curiosity Mrs Figg watched the industrious boy. _Why would a child now how to clear a table and do dishes? Knowing how to set a table is just teaching good etiquette but to clean up? My boys were nearly on their way to Hogwarts before I expected them to help in the kitchen. He even poured a glass of milk from a full gallon and didn't spill a drop._

After starting the water and adding some soap Harry returned to the table. He carefully collected the dirty dishes and carried them to the counter while warm water filled the sink. Harry was desperately trying to show his gratitude and not be an inconvenience to his host. Once everything was gathered, Harry climbed onto the chair. He had just started to wash the dishes, when he started to sway dangerously. His hand found the back of the chair just in time to keep himself from falling.

Mrs Figg was on him in an instant. She plucked him off the chair and sat him on the counter. Her eyebrows were arched together in concern.

"Are you alright?" She noticed his cheeks had become flushed. Harry's sideburns were slicked down and shinny with sweat.

Harry started to nod an affirmative, when his stomach gave a spasm at the sudden motion. He put a hand to his head to steady the swirling feeling.

"No," he moaned.

Mrs Figg picked him up off the counter and carried him on her hip like a toddler to the living room. She gently set him back against the pile of pillows from the previous night. "I think you have worn yourself out, Harry. Why don't you rest while I finish cleaning up."

"I can do it," Harry resisted. "I just," Harry gave an enormous yawn, "need a sec."

"No Harry, you don't feel well. I will do it," she answered, running her fingers through his sweaty hair.

Harry's eyes closed in bliss at the touch. "I c'n help," he mumbled.

Mrs Figg started to scratch his head in reply. With a content sigh, Harry's head dipped down towards his chest. Eventually Harry stopped responding to her touch and his breathing evened out. She stood up and chuckled at the now sleeping boy. _He's as bad as my familiars. _

Tibbles stretched out over the back of the couch, watching Harry sleep below her. The cat yawned as the sunshine warmed her fur. Her eyes drifted shut, yet Tibbles' ears remained sharply attuned to her surroundings.

The kitchen was nearly clean when a floo call from Augusta came in.

"Good morning, Augusta, how are you?" Arabella asked.

"Fine thank you. May Neville and I step through? There is also one other guest with me," Augusta cordially replied.

Mrs Figg drew her wand and lifted the ward of protection. Augusta emerged from the magically enlarged hearth and then a moment later a chubby cheeked boy spun out of the fire. He staggered right into Augusta. She swiftly brushed soot from his clothes, tidied his appearance and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The last subtle gesture was not lost to Arabella's wary eye.

A tall thin wizard, dressed in the green robes of a healer, strode through next with the grace of a frequent traveler. He carried a dragon hide medicinal bag with him. The man looked around curiously. Finally his eyes came to rest on Arabella and her wand.

Two of Mrs Figg's Kneezles prowled the floor, sniffing at the new arrivals. Snowy briefly inspected Augusta before turning her attention on Neville. Even as he reached down to pet her, Snowy wound around his legs, feeling the boy's aura and checking for hidden dangers.

Tufty took his time with the other new arrival. The doctor watched curiously as the Kneezle peered up at him. Approaching with caution the cat sniffed him and then rubbed a whiskered cheek along his bag. With a twitch of his tail Tufty then retreated to the corner of the room and began to groom himself. Between licks the cat continued to watch the guests.

Once her familiars completed their surveillance Mrs Figg concealed her wand in the folds of her dress. The three of them had worked in tandem - Mrs Figg supplying the backup while the Kneezles gathered information.

"Hello, I am Dr Paul Henderson. You must be Arabella Figg," the doctor stated with silent awe. Mrs Figg was a magical wonder. She had multiple familiars, which was extraordinarily rare. Less than thirty percent of the population could establish a bond strong enough for _one_ familiar. The fact that Mrs Figg had four was without precedent.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Mrs Figg replied.

She turned to Neville who stood rigidly in front of his Grandmother Augusta. His back butted against the woman, keeping a comforting touch with her. A gentle hand on his back discreetly encouraged him to step forward.

"I am Neville Longbottom, heir to the ancient and noble house of Longbottom," his voice picked up speed blurring his title as Neville nervously introduced himself.

Mrs Figg smiled at the boy's announcement. She crouched down and took him by the hand. "I will have none of that, Neville. Come here and talk to me."

After a glance at his grandmother, Neville stepped closer.

"Your father is my godson and your grandmother is my dearest friend. You are welcome in my home and are to treat it as your own."

"Yes Ma'am," Neville whispered.

"Bella. Your parents always called me Bella. Would you like some milk and biscuits?"

"Yes please. . . Bella," he smiled as the name rolled off his tongue.

Once Neville was served at the table and happily eating, Augusta turned to the metaphysician. "Would you like to examine Harry now?"

"Indeed I would," he nodded. "With the delicate nature of the situation, I will record my findings on parchment as well as in a pensieve. My vault at Gringotts will keep the information secure until it is needed. Under the Hippocratic oath I cannot divulge anything that is found, unless there is a court order or I discover signs of abuse. My findings will remain safely guarded. I will schedule a time at St Mungos to evaluate you Mrs Figg. There is some equipment there I wish to utilize for your circumstances."

"Harry is resting in the other room," Mrs Figg said as she escorted Dr Henderson to the boy.

Augusta sat down at the table with Neville to keep her grandson company and to give them some privacy.

Once they were in the room Mrs Figg kneeled next to Harry and gently shook him by the shoulder.

"Harry," she called softly.

Harry's face was pink from being so warm while he slept. He smiled at Mrs Figg groggily. When he started to wake up a bit more, Harry noticed the stranger standing behind Mrs Figg and his smile vanished.

"Hi Harry. I heard you were sick so I came to see if I could help you get better. Why don't we go to your room so I can give you a check up?" Dr Henderson said calmly.

Harry looked at the man distrustfully. Not a single adult other than Mrs Figg and her friend Madam Longbottom had ever taken an interest in his welfare before. Slowly, he stood up and turned towards the room he had slept in, sheepishly grasping Mrs Figg by her first two fingers and pulling her behind him as he led the way to the bedroom.

Dutifully, Mrs Figg followed the small boy. She was amazed by how quickly the boy was placing his trust in her. The previous day he had sought comfort from her presence at every opportunity.

Dr Henderson closed the door behind them and set his bag on the bed.

"Why don't you hop up on the bed for me, Harry. You may have seen some of this from a previous visit to your family doctor. I have had the luxury of receiving Muggle and Wizard medical training, in fact, I am a Muggle born wizard just like your mother was a Muggle born witch."

There was a sudden soft beating at the door.

Harry's little ears perked up when the doctor mentioned his mother. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't get it," Harry replied. His head was tipped to one side as he tried to figure out what the doctor had just said.

The drumming on the door became more persistent.

"Harry just learned about his heritage yesterday, Dr Henderson. He has been living with his Muggle relatives," Mrs Figg added.

Now the door was rattling non-stop.

A little tug on her dress caught Mrs Figg's attention.

"Mrs Figg, can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for a reply Harry continued, "What's a Muggle?"

There was a soft click and an eerie creek as the door opened. Tibbles walked into the room and jumped up on the bed next to Harry, glaring at the doctor for daring to close the door.

The doctor had just pulled out a tongue depressor and stood in front of Harry.

"Stick out your tongue for me please."

Harry looked at the man grumpily for interrupting him but obeyed.

"If I may," he nodded at Mrs Figg, "a Muggle is a non magical person," he said before inserting the stick into Harry's mouth.

"_Lumos," _the incantation caused his wand to shine a beam of light, which he used to look down Harry's throat. "Say ah, Harry."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh," Harry answered back then gagged from the pressure in back of his throat.

"Sorry about that, Harry. Now, hold this under your tongue for me." The stick was pulled out and tossed in the garbage can next to the nightstand and then a thermometer was inserted.

The doctor poked and prodded at Harry while a quill, much to Harry's amazement, took notes on a piece of parchment.

"Would you like to do a magic trick, Harry?" Dr Henderson asked after a few moments, pulling the thermometer from Harry's mouth.

Harry looked at the man like he had said a bad four letter word. He looked at Mrs Figg whom did not look concerned before hesitantly answering, "yes sir."

"Alright then, see this rock." The doctor held up a piece of crystal, which pulsed in his hand. "See if you can get it to shine for as long as you can for me. Like this." Dr Henderson focused his will on the crystal until it glowed non-stop then handed it to Harry.

At first it pulsed with Harry's heartbeat but then it started to glow just like it had with the doctor. Once a steady light was shinning it began to brighten. After a few seconds it was too bright to look at directly.

"OK that's enough, Harry," Dr Henderson said shaking his head in wonder as he took the crystal back. "That was quite impressive."

After the compliment, Harry smiled at the doctor for the first time.

"Would you mind stepping out for a minute, Mrs Figg, while I finish the check up?"

Mrs Figg hesitated and looked at Harry before starting to leave. However, she didn't get far before a little hand caught her dress. "Don't go."

"Are you sure, Harry? I need you to take off your nightshirt so I can get a good look at you," the Doctor replied giving Harry a second chance for privacy.

Harry slid off the bed, hesitated for just a moment, then took off the nightwear in response.

Dr Henderson studied the naked six-year-old boy in front of him. His knees and elbows were knobby and the skin stretched tightly over the pelvic bone. There was not an ounce of fat anywhere. Harry wasn't just small and skinny he was clearly malnourished. He ran a diagnostic charm for an official reading.

"A game of connect the dots could keep you busy for a long time," Dr Henderson teased Harry good naturedly to reduce some of the awkwardness.

He crouched down in front of Harry and looked at his chest. "Now that is a nasty bruise. How did you get that one?"

Harry cringed as the doctor's cold fingers pressed his ribs. "Playin'," Harry said, taking a step back.

The doctor took Harry's hands and pulled him closer. He placed one hand behind Harry's back holding him close as he continued to probe his ribs.

"Ow," Harry complained after a sensitive spot was pressed. He grabbed Dr Henderson's big hand with both of tiny ones to stop the doctor from poking him. Then he squirmed his way out of the doctor's hold.

Dr Henderson let go of Harry and a look of worry flickered across his face. "Take a deep breath, Harry."

Harry's chest swelled as he filled his lungs but before he could finish he coughed.

"One more time please."

Once again Harry failed to fill his lungs completely before having another coughing fit.

Dr Henderson stood up and looked at the growing list of grievances on the parchment. As he suspected, there was a recent rib fracture. He dug into his bag and pulled out a clay jar.

"I have just the thing for your bruise, Harry. It will fix you right up." He crouched down in front of Harry again and opened the jar. Scooping out some of the salve, the doctor gently rubbed it around the bruise. The bruise vanished with the administration._ Healing salve, a doctor's best friend. Not only is it a topological pain releiver it is also very conductive to healing magic. With children it less intimidating to have a salve rubbed in while I heal the wound, than to wave a wand at them._

"Now take another deep breath, Harry, and hold it for as long as you can."

He watched Harry's chest swell again. This time Harry did not cough or look pained in anyway. After half a minute Dr Henderson said, "That's good, you can let it out now. You had a cracked rib, Harry. What were you playing?"

Harry hesitated. "I dunno just playin' is all."

"It had to be awfully rough to crack a rib," Dr Henderson pressed.

At that moment Tibbles sauntered to the edge of the bed, sniffing at Harry and meowing. Grateful for the distraction Harry reached out a trembling hand and petted her.

The doctor watched for a moment before speaking again. "Is there anything you would like to tell me, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No sir."

"Has anyone ever hit you?"

Harry's head jerked back up to look at Dr Henderson. Suddenly he felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. "Can I get dressed please?" Harry asked in a small, tight voice.

"Let me see your back first."

"No," Harry practically whispered.

"Harry, turn and face me please," Mrs Figg ordered.

After a few seconds Harry reluctantly turned around to face Mrs Figg. His feet shifted nervously as he waited to be scolded for being rude. He flinched when Mrs Figg raised her hand. Instead of the anticipated blow, however, she gently placed her hand on his bare shoulder to comfort him.

Mrs Figg looked down on him sorrowfully. She had seen him recoil from her as she'd raised her hand. _Oh Harry, you poor poor boy._

Harry could feel the back of his neck warm and his cheeks flush with shame. He couldn't stand seeing the sadness in Mrs Figg's face and quickly starred at his toes instead. Harry's body shuddered beneath her touch as he drew a ragged breath. His lip quivered and his nose felt full as a tear rolled down his cheek. More tears followed, dripping from Harry's chin down onto his bare feet below.

Harry jumped when Dr Henderson's finger traced one of the many scars on his back. "Harry, this looks like a belt lash. Did someone whip you?"

It was all becoming too much for the small boy and a second later an emotion laden Harry snapped around and shouted in the doctor's face, "Leave me alone!"

A single pulse of energy radiated from him. It knocked Dr Henderson onto his backside and forced Mrs Figg back a step. The force continued on its path, slamming the doors in the room shut. The curtains billowed and the chair rocked in the energy's wake.

Fear seized Harry as soon as it happened. His gut clenched so violently that he nearly threw up breakfast. After a second an ashen-faced Harry streaked around the surprised doctor and ran for the closet. His clammy hands slipped on the knob but it opened on the second attempt and Harry slipped inside.

"Harry!" Mrs Figg cried out with concern as she tried to catch the fleeing child. Before she could reach him, however, Harry had shut himself in the closet. She tried the knob but it would not turn even though there was no lock on it.

There was no reply from the troubled boy, whom had shut himself away from the horrible revelations of the doctor's visit.

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Thank you for reading the chapter. The growing number of alerts and communities is great. Please leave a review, it is nice to hear what readers think.


	4. Connect the dots

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason. There is a scene of child abuse in this chapter. **

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me.**

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**Chapter 4: Connect the dots**

Arabella stood in front of the closet door with her hand resting on the knob. She shook her head at the display of accidental magic from Harry's tantrum. _I could use an unlocking spell but I think Harry needs some time alone. Besides, I want to see the doctor's report._

After reaching her decision, Mrs Figg cast a warming charm on the floor of the closet to keep Harry from getting too cold. When she turned around Dr Henderson gave a low appreciative whistle as he picked himself up off the floor.

He dusted off his rear and started to gather his gear.

"Well it looks like we're finished," he said in an amused tone and smiled at Arabella to take the sting out of his words.

"I'm so sorry doctor."

"Don't be. This was a very important step. Now we know where Harry stands and it gives us an idea of how to help him." He looked tentatively at the closed door before continuing. "Let's discuss this in another room."

"We can talk in the kitchen. I would like to see your report," Arabella said.

"Of course, we have much to discuss."

Once they were seated at the table Augusta leaned over to Neville. "Why don't you go play in the other room Neville," she said, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a canvas sack that was even larger than the purse. "Here is your bag of toys."

Neville whispered, "Where's the other boy you said I could play with Gran?"

Augusta had felt the wave of magic whilst sitting at the table and had also heard the doors slam shut. When Arabella and Dr Henderson had returned to the kitchen without Harry she had assumed the worst. "I don't think Harry is ready to play right now Neville. We can see how he is feeling in a little while."

He rolled his eyes at the dreaded 'in a little while' comment but slid off the chair onto the floor and took the proffered bag. "How long is a..." he began to ask before Augusta leaned in closer and whispered sternly in his ear, "When I come to get you and not a minute before."

"Yes Ma'am," Neville smartly complied. He slung the bag over his shoulder and retreated from the room in defeat.

Arabella smiled down fondly at Neville as he shuffled by.

"He reminds me of Frank at that age."

With a sad smile Augusta replied, "Yes he does."

While the women reminisced, Dr Henderson made two copies of his report. He cleared his throat before handing them each a copy. "I am obligated to file this with St Mungos who will collaborate with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to resolve Harry's welfare issues. I also have the same duty to notify the Muggle Child Services Department. I would recommend securing a solicitor who specializes in child advocacy for both court systems."

They looked through the list of abuses Harry had suffered in his short life. Arabella wondered how she could have missed such injuries. She was no stranger to violence and the symptoms should have been easily recognized or very difficult to conceal. Her hand trembled as she bought it up to cover her mouth. The color had drained from her face.

_The list is so long. How could I have missed this? Most of the injuries were sustained in the last two years._

"Arabella, it's alright," Augusta soothed. She put a calming hand on Arabella's arm, waiting for her friend to get control of herself. "Don't dwell on the past. It is what we are doing _now_ that will help Harry."

"To give you some time I can postpone the delivery of my report until the end of the day. The process for child services is far from expedient especially for Muggles. Since today is Thursday, it is highly unlikely that anyone will look at it before Monday afternoon. Then it will be forty-eight hours or possibly longer for anyone to do anything about it. Once again, the sooner you acquire the services of a solicitor the better,' Dr Henderson emphasized. Now, let's review the medical analysis and what it means."

_Gran said I would have somebody to play with_, Neville pouted. The canvas sack bounced against the back of his calves as he moped into the living room. He swung the bag around and let it drop to the floor with a bang, instantly cringing at the sound it made and looking hesitantly back towards the kitchen to see if his Gran was going to scold him.

"There isn't anything fun in here," Neville muttered to himself digging through the toys half-heartedly. "Maybe I can go outside."

Neville stood up to go ask when he noticed a white cat playing in a bedroom. The longhaired Kneazle was hunkered down next to the closet door with her butt high in the air. The tail swished back and forth while the cat peered beneath the door. Suddenly the cat scooted across the floor, batting its arms wildly under the door, chasing something on the other side.

Neville watched on as the cat romped up and down the floor playfully for several minutes then walked away. After a minute, she charged back, sliding across the wood floor and smacking into the door with a thud before lounging on her side next to the door and setting her eyes onto Neville. Her fluffy tail twitched into the air then slapped the floor. Eventually she got up, stuck a paw under the door and managed to wriggle it open.

"Hi Snowy," Harry said, reaching out to stroke the Kneazle that he had spent the last few minutes playing with from beneath the crack under the door. He had been running his fingers along the bottom of the door, teasing her. Snowy had reached under the door, gently batting at Harry's hand while carefully keeping her claws retracted.

Snowy rubbed herself up against Harry's bare legs, then stood upon his thigh with her fore paws and sniffed at Harry's face. The whiskers tickled his cheeks. "Your nose is cold!" He laughed.

Hearing someone talk to the cat from the closet, Neville went into the bedroom to investigate.

_Maybe its that boy, Harry. I hope he wants to play. _Neville thought excitedly.

Snowy's ears perked forward and she turned her head to watch as the closet door was opened further.

Harry scooted back further into the closet a moment later, causing Snowy to leap away from him. He crossed his legs and hugged them to his chest, trying to disappear behind the clothes hanging in the closet. The pit of Harry's stomach sunk and he felt ill with fear.

"Are you Harry?" Neville asked hopefully from the closet door. He looked at the partially hidden boy and waited for a second. When the boy in the closet didn't reply immediately he followed up with, "I'm Neville Longbottom of the ancient and noble house of Longbottom."

_That's a funny way of saying your name._ Harry thought to himself and grinned lopsidedly.

"Hi," he said a little nervously from behind the clothes.

"What're you in here for?" Neville asked in a friendly manner looking down at Harry between the clothes.

"I got mad at the doctor and somethin' freaky happened," Harry replied.

"Oh. Did Bella make you go in here because you were bad?"

"Who's that?"

"The lady who lives here. She's friends with my Gran."

"No," Harry said shaking his head, "Mrs Figg is nice. She wouldn't put me away or hit me."

Neville stepped into the closet with Harry and sat down Indian style across from him. "My Gran makes me sit in the corner, if I'm bad. What'd you do besides getting mad?"

"I dunno, but the doctor got pushed down an' I didn't even touch him. I think somethin' slammed the doors but it wasn't me," Harry implored the other boy to believe him. "Freaky stuff like that happens around me sometimes."

"That's just accidental magic. I do that too, like when I fell out of the tree and bounced. Gran was really mad at me for climbing so high. She said it was a good thing that my magic was smarter than me and kept me from getting hurt. I still climb trees though, when she isn't looking," Neville said, smiling bravely as he puffed his chest out.

Harry smiled weekly in return and hung his head a little when he answered, "My Aunt and Uncle put me away in the cupboard when I'm bad. Sometimes they lock me up for a really long time. If I'm quiet when I'm in there they, won't hit me. Most of the time they won't anyway."

"Really?" Neville asked skeptically. He was much too polite to call Harry a liar, but some of the older kids, like the Weasley twins, that visited the Longbottom estate would tell Neville scary stories. Gran said it was to get him worked up over nothing and it was just pretend. Being locked in a cupboard and getting hit by your relatives sounded like one of those stories.

Harry could tell Neville didn't quite believe him and said in a quiet, shaky voice, "I have scars from it."

Neville pushed the door open wider to let in more light. "Alright then, let's see them," he dared.

"I skinned my knee, but that was from my dumb cousin pushin' me down," Harry pointed to his bunged up knee.

Neville was not impressed. "That's nothing. I get those all the time just playing around. I have one on my elbow see?" He replied, showing a scabby elbow.

Hesitantly Harry spun around onto his knees and sat on his heels. With his back to Neville he said, "These are mostly from a belt."

Leaning in closer Neville could see inch wide strap marks on Harry's back and across his bare bottom. Some were still livid red welts, while others had diminished to white puckered scar tissue. He gulped audibly and asked in a dry voice, "Does it hurt much?"

"Sometimes it isn't too bad. It stops hurtin' after awhile."

"That one looks bad." Neville said touching a long red welt. Harry cringed and arched his back away from Neville's touch. "Sorry," Neville said quickly, pulling his hand back. "Why don't you tell on them?"

"I did once," Harry said flatly. He turned back around and sat down Indian style facing Neville again.

"My Uncle... Uncle Vernon hurt me so bad that I missed school for a few days. When I went back the teacher asked if I was better, I said no and told her 'bout it. She said they shouldn't be doin' that and took me to the principal. They wouldn't let me go home until my Aunt and Uncle came to get me."

Harry had wrapped his arms around his chest by that point and was hugging himself while rocking back and forth. Tears glistened on his eyelashes.

Neville waited patiently for Harry to finish. He could see how upset Harry was getting and thought about calling for his Gran.

"Hey Harry, you don't have to tell me anymore… if you don't want to I mean." Not knowing what else to do Neville reached out and patted Harry's good knee sympathetically.

The kind gesture motivated Harry to hastily wipe his eyes and continue.

"When they finally came there was a funny old man with a really long white beard with 'em. I was sent out in the hall to wait but nothin' happened. The teacher and principal never said anythin' about it again. My Aunt and Uncle were sorta nice for a while, 'til I got in trouble for gettin' on top of the school. Uncle Vernon got mad... really _really_ mad when I told the principal it was 'cause Dudley and his friends were goin' to beat me up an I was just tryin' to get away. He waited for the weekend then let me 'ave it good." Harry shivered remembering the awful beating Uncle Vernon had given him and how hungry he was after going an entire weekend without anything to eat.

_I think Dr Henderson and Mrs Figg might know now. Maybe they will... _

Harry forced himself to stop thinking about it. The teacher had said they shouldn't be treating him like that. They had even met with his relatives but nothing had changed. Living with the Dursleys had taught Harry not to get his hopes up and just to accept what happened.

Neville's eyes were wide after Harry's story. His childish faith in his Gran to fix anything shined through a moment later, however, and he said confidently, "My Gran will make them stop."

"I dunno, Uncle Vernon is really big and mean. He might get mad," Harry answered softly, shaking his head.

There was a sick, burning feeling rising in Harry's stomach now, like he always got when he did something bad and was waiting for Uncle Vernon to punish him. He didn't want to tell anyone again. After being called to the school his Aunt and Uncle had treated him differently… very coldly. There were days when nobody said anything to him at all, like he wasn't there. Which was worse, in a way, than being hollered at all the time and getting hit.

"Let's go and tell her."

"Please don't!" Harry begged Neville.

Now Neville felt doubtful. He thought his Gran would want to know about this. She had said over and over to him, _'You can tell me anything. I promise to listen to you. You might still get punished, but I will be fair about it.'_

"I dunno," Neville replied, subconsciously mimicking the improper way Harry talked. "I think the teacher was right even though she didn't do anything about it. You shouldn't let anyone hit you. Maybe you just need to tell the right person, like my gran. I know she would do something about it."

"Maybe I will," Harry replied noncommittally. Despite his previous experience, Harry suddenly found hope creeping around in the back of his mind.

"Alright. We can tell her later. Do you want to go play?"

Harry smiled broadly. "Yeah, whatcha wanna do?"

The boys stood up and walked out of the closet. Harry walked over to the bed to put his nightshirt back on.

"What are all of those red dots on you?" Neville asked. He had seen them in the closet too but had been too busy looking at the welts on Harry's back to ask about them.

"These?" Harry asked and pointed to a few of the pox marks. "I have the pox."

"What's that?"

"Somethin' I don't think you want. Mrs Figg is takin' care of me so Dudley doesn't get it. I had to take a fever potion cause of it." Harry said the word 'potion' foully and made a face.

Neville crinkled his nose at the mention of taking a potion. "Do you have any games or toys to play with?" He asked looking for something new to do.

"No," Harry said gloomily. Mrs Figg had given him a few toys in the past, but Dudley always took them. The only toys he had now were a few of Dudley's broken ones that he rescued from the garbage bin and they were carefully hidden under the lowest step in his cupboard.

"You don't have anything to play with at all?" Neville asked with clear disbelief.

Feeling slightly put upon about not having anything to play with Harry thought about what the doctor had said to him earlier and said, "We could play connect the dots."

**oOo**

"Being malnourished can present several problems. Harry already wears glasses and is very small for his age. There were some dry spots on his skin. I didn't notice any hair loss though," Dr Henderson stated.

"There was quite a bit left in the tub after his bath and I combed out a handful of loose hair. I thought it was because he was so poorly kept though," Arabella added.

"No, it is another symptom of malnutrition."

"Would you like some tea?" Arabella offered. "I could use some myself."

"Yes please."

Arabella stood and fixed the tea herself instead of by magic. She was a little overwhelmed by the doctor's report and despite Augusta's reassurances she was feeling guilty about failing Harry. Bustling about the kitchen she composed herself while Dr Henderson and Augusta talked amongst themselves. By the time some milk, honey and sugar had been set out she was feeling moderately better.

"Thank you, Mrs Figg."

"You're welcome," she replied sitting back down and fixing her own tea. "Now, where were we?"

"Fortunately malnutrition is treatable," Dr Henderson continued, looking at Arabella meaningfully. "Who ever takes care of Harry should focus on a balanced diet and making sure he gets plenty of rest. Supplemental vitamins in his diet will be necessary along with regular physical examinations until his body recovers from the damage that has been done."

The doctor drank some tea while watching Arabella closely. There was a look of determination that he admired on her face. "We need to schedule a time for you at my office at St Mungos and I would like to see Harry biweekly until I am satisfied with his progress. Perhaps later we can run some tests on his scar."

"Did you take a measurement of Harry's magical core?" Augusta asked suddenly.

"Yes I did. That reminds me," Dr Henderson replied, reaching into his medicine bag on the floor beside him. "Give Harry these to play with." He set four tops on the table and a Muggle slinky.

"Wizard tops?" Mrs Figg asked.

"They are an excellent way to exercise magical strength. It takes control and builds endurance to keep them spinning. The other toy is a slinky from the Muggle world. It is a coiled spring that walks down stairs due to the force of gravity. This one has been enchanted to be powered by magic." Dr Henderson waved his hand over the slinky setting it in motion.

"Harry is very strong, magically. The toys will help use up his excess magic and reduce the occurrences of accidental magic. Neville can show him how to use them. I gave him some last year."

"Thank you, Dr Henderson. Harry will enjoy the toys. After this morning's display I will certainly appreciate them," Arabella nodded.

"Augusta," Dr Henderson continued, turning his attention across the table, "if you are serious about Neville catching Dragon Pox from Harry make sure they use the same drinking cup. Encourage them to share these with each other too," he said, setting a box of sugar quills on the table with the toys. "Having Neville sleep in one of Harry's used night shirts would be another great way to make sure Neville is exposed to the virus. Feel free to floo or owl me with any questions. I will send over some chewable vitamins for Harry."

The doctor stood with his bag. The women stood with him and escorted him to the floo.

After securing the floo Arabella noticed a look of concern on Augusta's face and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Neville is too quiet," she replied.

Augusta and Arabella walked into the living room. Neville's toy bag was on the floor next to the couch but there was no sign of the boy. From another room, however, they could hear the faint twitter of children playing and laughing. Snowy sauntered out of the spare bedroom with as much dignity as she could muster with a black hand print on her white fur.

Arabella and Augusta shared a silent look before moving towards the sound of faint laughter and opening the door to look in.

"I beat you."

"Did not."

"There's another."

Harry laughed. "There's nuthin' there you cheater."

What had started as drawing a line from one pox mark to another had escalated to a race. Harry was sitting on his heels in the middle of the floor with black lines running all over him from the knees on up. An ink well sat between the two boys within easy reach. There were black drops and strings of ink on the floor leading from the inkpot to Harry. Both of the boys' hands were almost completely black.

"Neville!"

The boy jumped at his Gran's angry tone and leaped to his feet, knocking the ink well over. He clasped his hands guiltily behind his back and stared at the stern woman's feet.

Harry quickly stood up next to his friend. He looked uncertainly from Neville to Augusta.

Arabella covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Her eyes danced merrily at the sight of the two boys.

"Look at this mess. Ten minutes, Neville, I left you alone for ten minutes!"

A rich and boisterous laugh erupted from Arabella. Augusta turned on Arabella with a look of disapproval which made the other woman just laugh harder. Between sharp barks of laughter Arabella wheezed, "I'm sorry."

"You are encouraging them," Augusta said sharply, however, the corner of her mouth twitched as she fought off a smile of her own.

The boys watched with mixed emotions. They were confused by Arabella's good humor and afraid of being in trouble.

"Please, Madam Longbottom, don't be mad at Neville. We were just playin' connect the dots. It was my idea," Harry defended his only friend.

Augusta looked at the terrified boy. Harry was visibly shaking but he had found enough courage to stand up for Neville.

_The poor boy has been through enough with those monsters that are raising him._

"His hands have just as much ink on them as yours, Harry. Although it looks like you were more on the receiving end than he was. It sounds like the two of you were having fun but you can't make a mess like this," she said gesturing at the floor.

Harry nodded his head very seriously and asked, "Where do you keep the rags and cleaner Mrs Figg? I'll clean it up."

"Just this once I will take care of it for you two. Consider this your warning. Next time I will not be as lenient," Augusta answered for Arabella who was just now reining in her amusement.

"You don't have to, I clean the house all the time. I do a really good job too," Harry said with pride.

"I know you do." _That certainly explains a six year old boy's ability to poor milk and clean the dishes. As neat as you were I wouldn't doubt that there were dire consequences, if you made a mess. _Arabella thought to herself.

"You were very helpful today, but you're still sick. Remember what happened this morning? Why don't you and Neville take a bath instead while Augusta cleans this up," Arabella finished, smirking a little as she said it.

_Unless Augusta has learned a few cleaning charms since Hogwarts, this should be entertaining. When we roomed together she wouldn't swish a wand to pick up anything. She has been doted on by house elves her whole life. It still amazes me how we became such good friends. _

"Come on you two and don't touch anything." Arabella lead them to the bathroom and ran the water for them.

"Not too hot please," Harry blurted out, "make it like yesterday. Can we have bubbles?"

She smiled at the black haired little boy who was now leaning into her side attentively watching her prepare the bath. Ink was rubbing off on the tub and her dress but she didn't scold him. She knew a cleaning charm for inanimate objects that would take care of it.

_I would use the charm on them too but it would irritate Harry's skin and possibly spread the pox marks or cause scarring. He has too many scars as it is._

Arabella helped both boys in. "Make sure you try to get as much of the ink off as you can before you play. Call me when you're finished Harry, so I can put more salve on you."

She held up Neville's ink stained clothes passing her wand over them.

"_**Scourgify.**__" _After folding the freshly cleaned clothes up neatly and setting them on the counter she put out two towels for the boys.

Mr Paws jumped up on the counter and laid down on Neville's clothing, cautiously watching the boys just in case they splashed around to much.

Augusta was sitting on the couch when Arabella came out of the bathroom. A house elf was handing her a cup of tea.

"Did the ink come up, Augusta?" Arabella asked innocently, cleansing her dress and hands. She sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch once she'd finished.

"Yes it did," Augusta replied a bit stiffly.

"What charm did you use? Ink can be stubborn to get out sometimes," she replied feigning interest.

"Did your vast experience as an Auror along with your common sense desert you? A house elf is standing right here. He cleaned it up."

"Oh, of course. I just had the impression from what you said to the boys that you were going to take care of it," Arabella teased.

"And I did." Augusta realized her friend was working her up, cleared her throat and took a sip of tea. "I know what you are doing," she said primly.

Arabella chuckled, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. It's just so nice to enjoy your company again," she said sincerely.

The women smiled at each other. They had jabbed and spared verbally all through school. Augusta usually thrashed Arabella verbally but would get trounced magically once Arabella had had enough. Neither one asked for mercy or forgiveness. As soon as the stormy mood passed they were the best of friends again.

Augusta gave a charming lady like laugh. "Did you see them? What ever made them think of doing that?"

"Ha! Your family doctor can take the credit for that. He made the suggestion that Harry could play connect the dots with himself." Seeing the confused look on Augusta's face Arabella explained further, "It's a Muggle game in coloring books for children. They draw a line from one dot to another."

Nodding her understanding Augusta finished, "So they drew lines from one pox mark to the next on Harry."

"This memory is definitely going into a pensieve for him."

Augusta gasped. "You wouldn't."

"Oh come now, everyone has a childhood picture or pensieved memory that you wish was never taken. Someday his wife might like to know what Harry was like as a child. Plus it will give me good blackmail material." They laughed together at that.

A quiet mood settled over the room as they thought about the task ahead of them. Eventually Augusta breached the more serious topic.

"We need to get started on securing Harry."

"Do you know a good solicitor, Augusta? That seems to be our starting point," Arabella said.

"We will need a highly qualified individual or team of solicitors. I can ask the Longbottom financial consultant at Gringotts for a recommendation. The goblins aren't allowed to act as any kind of legal council in the wizard courts but they know who has the highest success rate. It is in their best interest to track this information."

"That's a start. When should I reach out to Amelia Bones?' Arabella questioned. "I might need to visit her in person to get through the red tape but that has a problem of its own. There are many eyes and ears at the ministry. My visit would surely be noted."

"Let's deal with the solicitor first. It may not even be necessary to approach her; the fewer who know about what we are doing the better. Since I am visiting Gringotts, I can get Harry some clothes. I just need his measurements," Augusta offered.

"Just…don't get anything too fancy," Arabella reluctantly agreed.

"I will try to be reasonable, but do not expect me to visit the used apparel or budget shops," Augusta said evenly. "He is the last of the Potters and should look respectable."

_A certain appearance and behavior will be expected of him. The sooner he becomes accustomed to the change in his circumstances the better. _Augusta thought to herself.

"He needs Muggle clothing too. Full kit all the way around," Arabella said standing up to get Harry's sizes and check on the boys.

Augusta returned to the Longbottom estate to use her floo to travel to the roof top of Harrods, one of the largest Muggle department stores in the world. Located in the upscale neighborhood of Knightsbridge London near Hyde Park. Only the lower floors were accessible to Muggles. On the roof was a collective of small specialty shops and restaurants which catered to the elite members of the wizarding world. There was even a branch office of Gringotts Bank. The shops were magically concealed from Muggles and protected by anti apparation wards, just like Diagon Alley to protect shop owners from snatch and vanish artists. Although it was on the roof, the climate was controlled for the shoppers.

Harrods can be reached only by floo. The floo was not open to the general populace of the Wizarding World. A substantial fee was paid in order to be connected to Harrods' network with a monthly renewal to maintain the privilege. Anyone else who wished to make a purchase had to do so by owl. The great gray owls used for delivery roused excitement whenever they were seen carrying packages.

The central floo for Harrods was located in an aesthetically pleasing park. The top floor was climate controlled and charmed to deflect rain during business hours. A three dimensional map of the stores hovered near the massive chimneys. There were numerous benches for shoppers among plenty of shade trees. A network of paths flowed out to the shopping areas. Lampposts and the statues, which would occasionally change poses or move somewhere else entirely, peppered the trails.

Augusta walked into Twilfit & Tatting's clothing shop. A small chime rang pleasantly when the door opened, alerting the snooty clerk on duty. She looked down her nose appraising Augusta.

"Can I help you?"

"I need a professional. You can summon Mr Twilfit for Lady Longbottom," Augusta said haughtily, turning away from the clerk.

"Yes my Lady," she replied humbly recognizing the surname. She immediately tapped a concealed silver bell behind the counter and mere moments later the pop of an apparation was heard as the shop proprietor, Mr Twilfit appeared. As the shop owner he was able to apparate directly into his store.

"Madam Longbottom. It is a pleasure to see you again," the tailor twittered excitedly.

Augusta turned to face the short effeminate man. He was smartly dressed and had a charm about him. He cast a critical eye over Augusta appraising her appearance for a moment until he seemed satisfied.

Timothy had given Augusta a makeover when she had been an active member of the Wizengamot. She continued to periodically check in with the man to maintain a current air of sophistication. Magical folk tended to have long lives but frequently dressed in attire from previous decades. Augusta had no desire to be the 'old crone in the buzzard hat' everyone talked about.

"The ball gown for the Christmas Holiday was very elegant. I received many compliments on your fine work. The name of Timothy Twilfit was on the tip of everyone's tongue by the end of the evening," Augusta noted smoothly.

"It was an honor. Is there anything else I can help you with?" His eagerness to help was apparent. After her holiday party there were a dozen orders for an original dress design.

"I need formal robes befitting the heir of a noble house," Augusta requested, letting the shop owner assume the clothes were for Neville.

"A complete line of casual and play clothes, as well. Enough clothes for a week including a variety of undergarments and a spring jacket. We may be traveling through Muggle communities as well so a like amount of Muggle clothing to blend in would be necessary, plus a few things that a Muggle commoner would be likely to wear. Do you have a colleague whom can help with that? I would be most appreciative."

_Judging from Harry's appearance yesterday anything will be an improvement. Arabella said he has never had anything but charity clothes and hand-me-downs, so I doubt if he has ever been asked so much as what color he likes. They can go shopping together later and pick out a few things to round out his wardrobe. It will make a good special treat for Harry._

"Of course Madam. When would you like the order to arrive?"

"Tomorrow morning would be fine," she said handing him Harry's measurements.

Mr Twilfit accepted the slip of paper and bowed to Augusta. "Thank you Madam. I will dress the young man handsomely. Should Mr Tatting budget time for a personal fitting tomorrow?"

"Yes please. Would nine be an acceptable hour?"

_Excellent. Harry is positively too thin, _Augusta thought._ Even with the right measurements the clothes will not look right. Mr Tatting will make the new wardrobe look astonishing. Unfortunately the boy is so timid right now he may not like being fitted. Hopefully Arabella will be able to soothe Harry long enough for the tailor to work his magic. She is going to be angry about the custom order but it serves her right for teasing me earlier. _Augusta smiled to herself about the petty revenge.

Price was not discussed, if you were expecting to see tags in a place like Twilfit & Tattings you couldn't afford it. Most clientele did not leave the owner, a renowned designer, with a shopping list for a new wardrobe.

Upon leaving Twilfit and Tattings, Augusta walked to the Harrods' Wizarding Bank, a branch of Gringotts. A pair of fully armored goblins stood on guard. The jagged edge of their pikes sparkled in the sun. They blocked the stairs, waiting for a formal announcement before granting access.

"Augusta Longbottom head of the ancient and noble family of Longbottom requests an audience with Master Orelink."

The senior sentinel stepped forward drawing a curved silver dagger and handed it to Augusta hilt first.

The point of the dagger pierced the tip of Augusta's thumb and a single drop of blood fell upon the bottom step of the bank. A series of runes flared to life lighting each step all the way to the top. A deep gong rang and the massive stone doors opened. Intricate runes were chiseled into the doors which were held in place by their size and weight. Yet with a push of the hand they would pivot in place to allow entry.

After the goblin wars the magical population only thought of the goblins in terms of their capacity to fight and for their greed as bankers. Actually, the goblins were a burrowing race like the dwarves. Searching out the precious metals and gemstones in the ground. Their talent as stonemasons and metal smiths rivaled the dwarves: although, this profession was infrequently pursued by their kind now. The few who practiced this trade were extremely expensive to hire and very rarely contracted out to wizards.

Kneeling before Augusta the goblin held out his hand to receive the dagger. He wiped the weapon before sheathing it. The goblin returned to his post allowing Augusta to pass.

Another goblin waited at the top of the stairs. When Augusta reached the top he bowed to her, "Lady Longbottom."

Augusta nodded in return.

"Please follow me." The goblin said before leading her to the branch manager's office.

The wizened old goblin peered thoughtfully at the head of the house of Longbottom. Augusta was a highly intelligent witch but was not too proud to defer to those with greater talent. A few years into her marriage as a Longbottom she took upon the responsibility of the family fortune and did quite well. Augusta researched and interviewed the goblin investors extensively for over a year. Not long after that she convinced her husband that someone else could do better with their holdings. There was a bitter fight over prejudices but in the end Master Orelink became the financial analyst for the fifth largest Gringott account. It was a decision that had been mutually beneficial. The Longbottom fortune grew to become the fourth largest Gringotts account and Master Orelink was rapidly promoted.

Augusta took a seat across from her advisor and waited for the door to be closed. Greetings were not exchanged nor had she been invited to sit. They considered each other equals and were as close to friends as a witch and goblin could be.

The door closed and privacy charms sealed the room. At the risk of offending the goblin before her, Augusta brandished her own wand and cast her own privacy charms.

"Master Orelink, I come seeking advice. I need some recommendations for solicitors. "

"That is something which I may be able to help with. Is there a particular aspect of law you need to focus on?" He maintained a neutral expression but was surprised by the request and her need for additional security.

"Child advocacy to start with. I need a representative for Muggle and Wizard law," she answered, wondering how much she should divulge.

Master Orelink kept his poker face but he was wondering what Augusta was up to. "Is there any other branch you would like to have researched?"

"Yes, financial law. I believe the heir to an ancient house has been the victim of fraudulent and dishonest acts regarding their holdings and the interpretation of the will."

Now the goblin was intrigued. An ancient house was most likely a lucrative Gringotts account or had the potential to become one. They had exchanged information and favors before. Orelink wondered if he could ask for more information.

The two sat considering each other for a time.

"Is this heir a Gringotts customer?" The goblin asked cautiously.

"I do not know. Can you verify this for me?"

Orelink hesitated. It was a matter of trust. Did he trust this witch enough to risk Gringotts losing an incredible amount of gold.

"I can verify if the heir's assets are managed by Gringotts. There is a possibility that I could secure the will and who attended its execution. I am willing to help _my client _how ever I can."

The offer had been made. Master Orelink was risking a substantial amount of liability to Gringotts, if the client pursued legal action against the bank it would be a public scandal at the very least. With an ancient and noble house involved it could cost them a substantial amount of gold in penalties and a very wealthy client as well. A negative outcome would cost the goblin his position.

"I will be in an advising capacity to the heir. He is a minor but will need a trustworthy financial consultant, a respected goblin such as yourself," Augusta said smoothly, her eyes fixed steadily to Orelink's before she handed him the next bit of information. "The heir is Harry James Potter of the ancient and noble house of Potter."

Master Orelink's eyes shined with conquest. Ragnok the manager of Gringotts itself was the executer of the Potter will. Rumor had it that Albus Dumbledore was the sole attendee. The Potter family fortune was presently the third largest account, at one time it had been the second. Orelink assumed Ragnok had become lazy with his portfolios since attaining the position of manager. If the Potter account had been his, it would still be the second largest account.

It was now possible for a hostile takeover. If he acquired the largest accounts at Gringotts and (or) proved Ragnok acted dishonestly Orelink could become the Gringotts manager. It was unfortunate that the assets of the Black family were inaccessible because the current heirs were criminals locked away in Azkaban. When they passed away the holdings would be added to the Malfoy treasury - another Ragnok account.

He set his long dark fingers together beneath his chin and gave a sharp toothed grin. "The manager of Gringotts was the executor of the Potter will. It is rumored that Albus Dumbledore attended. I will confirm the attendees and acquire a copy of the will. If you file a suit with the Wizengamot, I will personally freeze all of the Potter assets."

Augusta smiled maliciously in return. Someone has their hand in the proverbial cookie jar and Master Orelink was bringing a hatchet.

"Your attention to the matter is most welcome Master Orelink," she said evenly.

Fifteen minutes later Augusta left the bank with a list of potential solicitors. She briefly reviewed the names for one she recognized. There were a few names that sounded familiar but only one did she know - Prewett. It was the maiden name of Molly Weasley and quite likely a relative of some kind.

Making use of the Harrods floo she immediately traveled to the Leaky Caldron. Once she was on the streets of Diagon Alley she made her way to the office of Prewett and Prewett. It was a humble office. Augusta had expected more since they were so high on the list for successful cases.

A witch with three children was leaving the office as she approached. The woman looked quite happy as she waved the children on. It must have been a favorable outcome. Once the route was clear Augusta entered.

A red headed man in a muggle suit leaned casually against the wall speaking to a woman in business robes who was seated behind a desk. Their conversation stopped when Augusta entered.

"Can we help you?" the woman asked.

"I am searching for a solicitor that specializes in family law. If you have the time, I would like to ask you a few questions."

The man stepped away from the wall looked at the woman briefly and shrugged. "Sure, fire away."

Augusta looked at the man and was beginning to have some doubts. _What a strange thing to say._

"What he meant is... please feel free to ask your questions. We will do our best to answer."

"I understand that you offer services to both the Muggle and wizard court system?"

"I'm your man for the Muggle laws," the red headed man nodded, "To head off any potential problems I am a squib. I attended school in the Muggle world and completed a degree in law. After a few years I narrowed my expertise to family law."

Having seen her haughty attitude and critical eye surveying the office he added, "Family law is not the most lucrative field but it is morally rewarding. Do you have any further questions?" If she were prejudiced like many of the wizarding folk, his blunt honesty would chase her off.

Augusta, however, was not put off by his announcement. If anything she was impressed by his willingness to confront her.

"Your wife is a witch and handles the court issues for the Wizengamot?" Augusta continued.

"Correct on both accounts," Mrs Prewett replied.

"Have either of you faced a team or firm of lawyers before? Your success rate is high but is that from a lack of qualified competition? I won't pretend to know anything about your profession but I have a very serious task and need an exceptional representative," Augusta said importantly.

Mrs Prewett stood up and walked around to Augusta. "I am Diana Prewett-Proctus daughter of David Proctus of the Proctus law firm. The law firm will be mine some day but I refused to work there until I have established my self as an accomplished solicitor. We have been in business for fifteen years and neither of us have lost a single case no matter who we faced in the court room. My family is quite wealthy and we do a great deal of pro bono work. This have given us much more experience than many lawyers. You will not find better solicitors than my husband and I in family law."

Augusta looked no further. She nodded her head and said, "I wish to retain your services. What will be the fee to have you work exclusively for me?"

Two hours later she left knowing that the right decision had been made. Prewett and Prewett were indeed professionals. While the man seemed self confident and even a little egotistical, these were not bad qualities to have in a solicitor. His strange habits and Muggle education would be a great advantage to have while dealing with the Dursleys.

Diana on the other hand appeared to be an impressively competent woman. As a witch she was used to working hard for respect in the court room. The fact that she would one day inherit the Proctus law firm was a tremendous boon. The prestigious firm would not be likely to face them in a courtroom for fear of the future owner's wrath. This took out one of their top competitors for securing Harry's guardianship. They even worked with inheritance law and the interpretation of wills.

_It will be interesting to see the Potter's will. Master Orelink said he should be able to procure it shortly. Then we will know who the players are for sure. _Augusta thought to herself with a gleam of anticipation in her eye.

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Thank you for reading the chapter. Please take a minute to leave a review. All comments are welcome.


	5. The pox party

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason there is a scene of child abuse and swearing in this chapter.**

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

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**Chapter five: The Pox Party **

"Mrs Figg! Mrs Figg!" Harry screamed from the bathroom.

Arabella ran into the room to see what was wrong. Neville and Harry were at opposite ends of the bathtub. Neville had an alarmed look on his face as Harry held his hands cupped over his nose and mouth, his green eyes shining with panic.

"Kechew!" Harry sneezed and orange flames shot out between his little fingers. There were tears in his eyes when he looked up at her.

"What's wrong with me?" The terrified boy wailed from behind his hands.

"Shhh Harry, it's alright. You'll be fine," Arabella said as she crouched down in front of him, tenderly stroking his wet head. "The Dragon Pox has entered the next stage. You will probably start running a higher fever now too. I know the sparks and flames are scary but it won't hurt anything," she comforted in a soothing voice.

Arabella gently pried Harry's hands away from his face and felt his shriveled fingers, deciding it was time for them to get out. She stood up, pulling Harry to his feet with her and said, "Up you go. If you two stay in much longer you will turn into prunes."

After she had Harry standing on the floor mat she helped Neville out as well and handed him a towel to dry off with. She sat down on the side of the tub, reaching down through the colorful bubbles to release the drain.

Neville dried himself off while Arabella patted Harry dry. She didn't want him to scratch the pox marks and spread them. Soaking in the tub had faded the spider web of ink stains on Harry to a smoky grey. It would probably take a few days for the ink to wear completely off.

"ACHOO!" A burst of flame jetted from Harry's nose and mouth. Arabella laughed at the startled look on the boys' faces. Neville and Harry shared uncertain smiles. Harry's face crinkled up, "choo!" Followed by a smaller spark. They all laughed.

"You missed one," Neville helpfully pointed out another blemish on Harry's skin to Arabella as he finished dressing.

"Thank you, Neville," Arabella patiently replied for the fifth time while applying the salve to Harry.

"Why don't you use a healing balm on Harry's back?' Neville continued. "That big red one his uncle gave him really hurts. Doesn't it, Harry?"

Harry stiffened under Arabella's touch. He looked at Neville with a betrayed expression on his face. "You said you wouldn't tell!"

Neville stood up straight and his chest swelled angrily.

"I didn't tell anything," he said defensively, looking down on the smaller boy.

"Yes you did. You said… you said..." Harry stuttered along angrily.

"Harry's uncle is a big mean bully and hits him," Neville said pointedly, looking Arabella in the eye before turning to Harry. "There! Now I told."

Water ran down from Harry's wet head over his nose and onto the floor. The audible drip of water was the only sound as the boys stood rigid; facing each other with their fists clenched trying to stare the other down.

"Neville, could you excuse Harry and me please? We will be out in a minute," Arabella said, turning Neville towards the door and giving him a gentle push.

She shut the door behind him and picked up a clean nightshirt out of the whicker basket for Harry.

Suddenly everything in the bathroom became fascinating to Harry. His gaze shifted busily about the room; anywhere to avoid looking Arabella in the eye.

"Come here, Harry," Arabella called while bunching up the clothing to make it easier to slip over his head.

Harry walked over to her and raised his hands. The light fabric fluttered down over his head. After tying the laces at his neck Arabella slid his glasses on. She took Harry's hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs in comforting little circles on the back of his hands.

With a big sigh, Harry's shoulders relaxed a little at the soothing touch.

"I don't want to mix a healing balm and an anti itching salve. So we will use the healing balm on your back tonight before you go to bed. I didn't realize it hurt so badly. In the future, if anything hurts please tell me right away," Arabella said softly.

The black head bobbed uncertainly.

_Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't like whinging. They get really mad when I say anything unless there is a lot of blood. And a punishment is supposed to hurt so I know better, _Harry thought to himself.

She released Harry's hands to rifle through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a potion. Harry made a sour face when he saw the decanter.

"This is a potion for pain relief. It will make your back feel better until we can use the healing balm tonight," Arabella explained, noticing Harry's expression.

Harry scrunched his toes up nervously on the cool tile floor at the mention of the welts on his back.

A dose of the potion was measured into a drinking cup and handed to Harry. Without a word he drained the contents. He grimaced and stuck his tongue out, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

_Maybe if I just do everything Mrs Figg says, she won't talk about the other stuff_, Harry thought to himself hopefully.

Arabella smiled at Harry. "You understand that Neville is just trying to help you, right?"

Harry hung his head and replied cautiously, "Yeah. I hope he still wants to be m' friend."

"I think you should apologize to Neville."

"Yes, Mrs Figg. I will," Harry soberly replied.

Not wanting to push Harry any further Arabella gave him a quick hug before turning him towards the door. "Go play. There are some toys on the kitchen table for you."

Harry felt like a criminal on death row who had just received a pardon. He smiled brightly at Mrs Figg as he ran out of the bathroom.

"Thanks Mrs Figg!"

Neville was sitting on the floor with a few toys spread around him. He looked up when he heard Harry's bare feet slapping the wood floor as he ran into the room. Suddenly Harry dropped to the floor and slid past Neville like a base runner. He came to a stop a few feet later, rolled onto his stomach and propped himself on his elbows.

Neville twisted around and laughed at Harry's wild entrance.

"I bet I can slide further than that," he challenged.

"I wasn't tryin'. If it's gonna count, I wanna second go at it," Harry responded with a friendly smile.

Neville started to put his toys away, just like his Gran taught him to, now that he had someone to play with. Harry scooted over on his knees to help.

"Neville... I'm sorry I got mad."

"Well I'm not sorry that I told," Neville replied bluntly. He plodded on bravely. "And I'm telling my Gran too. I don't care if it makes you mad either. Nobody should hit you like that."

Harry's stomach went sour. "Please don't, Neville," he implored in a whisper. "You already told Mrs Figg."

"We're friends right?" Neville asked suddenly.

Without any hesitation Harry said, "Yeah." The sour feeling in his stomach eased and Harry felt a warm sensation creep over him instead.

"Then I'll keep on telling until he stops hurting you," Neville said seriously.

"But what if they don't? After I told the teacher, they stopped talking to me. It was like I wasn't there. What if... what if they lock me in the cupboard and forget I'm there?"

**oOo**

_Harry hurried down the driveway with a worried expression on his face. It was well past the time he was due to get home. He was way behind on his chores. Dinner did not wait for Harry. If his chores weren't done on time, Harry didn't get to eat._

_He ducked low, pressed his back against the house and crept under the kitchen window hoping that his aunt hadn't noticed the time. Harry could hear Petunia angrily pacing the floor. Her feet cracked liked gunshots causing Harry to cringe with each step._

_"No, Principal Prescott. I assure you Dudley would never do such a thing," Petunia assured in an affronted tone of voice._

_Harry froze beneath the window when he heard the school principal's name._

_"Well," she huffed," I don't know why Harry told you that. They get along fine at home."_

_Harry drew a slow and quiet breath as he crouched down below the window, afraid that he would get caught eavesdropping._

_"The boy is lying because he doesn't want to get in trouble."_

_"Well I will talk to Dudley about it and make sure. Yes. I will talk to Harry too. Vernon and I will __**definitely**__ talk to him," Petunia maliciously promised._

_A chill ran down Harry's spine, his bowels iced over and he began to tremble uncontrollably._

_"Thank you again. Have a good night," Petunia said hanging up the phone. She glanced at the clock on the wall._

**Harry should be home by now. Where is that brat? He's probably hiding, if he knows what is good for him. This is completely unacceptable. He cannot drag Dudley's name through the mud like that. The neighbors will think our son****is nothing more than a common thug****,"** she thought furiously.

_She walked out the backdoor to look for the source of her ire. In her fit she let the door slam shut - A transgression that earned anyone else an instant scolding. Her hateful gaze scanned the empty backyard as she walked around to the driveway._

_Harry struggled to quit shaking and get up. His knees wobbled as he stood. One hand rested on the house to steady himself. He looked up a moment later to find Aunt Petunia staring right at him. Her eyes blazed with anger as she marched over to him. He couldn't move. Harry's legs ignored his desire to run and hide._

_Petunia spotted the irksome boy beneath the kitchen window. No doubt the little sneak had listened to every word of her call. She stalked over to him angrily, seized Harry's arm and shook him violently. Her perfectly manicured nails pierced the threadbare, long sleeved shirt and cruelly dug into the soft flesh under Harry's arm. The woman looked for any witnesses before she grabbed a fistful of the messy black hair and dragged the petrified boy into the house._

_"Ow," Harry whimpered. Tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes as he was pulled painfully behind his aunt in an awkward bent over trot. His hands gently held onto Petunia's thin arm trying to stop her from jerking so hard. He knew from experience that if he tried to pull away or pry her hand out of his hair it would only hurt worse._

_Once inside, she viciously wrenched the tiny boy out from behind her, and released his hair, spinning Harry into the kitchen and onto the floor. "Cupboard now!" She acidly commanded._

_Without a backward glance, Harry scampered for his cupboard. He crawled across the thinly padded mattress and pressed his back into the corner to keep a wary eye on the door. He had barely settled when the bolt slid into place with an ominous click, locking Harry in._

_The worst part of getting punished was waiting for Uncle Vernon to come home. It was usually around six in the evening but sometimes it was even later. If it was later, something bad usually had happened at work and Uncle Vernon would be in a right paddy of a mood. Any punishments dealt out on a late night were much worse than when his Uncle came home on time. Harry would sit in the cupboard counting the chimes of the clock so he would know what to expect._

_The overhead light held a burned out light bulb. It had not been replaced for several months. Vernon had had to replace them every few weeks once Harry had grown tall enough to reach the chain to turn it on. It frustrated the man to no end once he figured out that Harry was leaving it on at night. Beating Harry every time he replaced the bulb or found him with the light on didn't discourage the boy from turning it on. Harry couldn't help himself. The only comfort he received after getting punished or having a nightmare was to turn on the light. Then he wasn't all alone in the dark anymore._

_Once Petunia moved away from the door and turned on the telly, Harry jumped up and groped around in the dark for the chain. His hand batted the hanging chain causing it to swing about. Eventually he got a hold of the light switch and gave it a tug. Nothing. Harry pulled on the chain again. The blackened bulb didn't respond._

_"Pleeeease," Harry whispered desperately and tried one more time. There was a flicker in the bulb this time. Slowly it brightened until Harry could see his scantily furnished cupboard._

_Dudley's old urine stained mattress lay in the furthest corner from the cupboard door. It had replaced Harry's old crib mattress. Once Harry became used to the smell he was grateful to have more room to stretch out._

_Fortunately, Harry was warm blooded because he only had one ratty blanket for the bed and no sheets. Most of the time he slept in nothing but the shirt he'd been wearing. He usually rolled up into a ball and tucked his knees up under the shirt to fight off the early morning chill. The blanket was used as a pillow most of the time until it started to get cold. For the really cold days he stayed fully dressed, laid some clothes by the door to stop the draft and piled the few remaining articles of clothing on top of him for the extra insulation._

_Harry had cleared the top shelf of the cleaning supplies to have someplace to put his oversized, secondhand clothes. His meager wardrobe consisted of two pairs of trousers, two long sleeved shirts, one jumper and a few pairs of holey socks. The worn out trainers had been rubbed smooth on the bottom and leaked through the cracks if Harry's feet got wet. The shoes were too big for his feet and had to be stuffed with paper. Harry refused to wear any of Dudley's old pants after finding a brown streak. They were too big for him anyway. The underclothes just slid down and bunched up uncomfortably the few times he had tried to wear any._

_His schoolbooks were piled next to the head of the mattress. There were also a few toys salvaged from the rubbish bin. Dudley had broken them and left them in his toy room upstairs. Aunt Petunia periodically cleared out the broken items to make room for Dudley's new stuff. The toys were in a small box carefully hidden under the lowest step in the cupboard._

_Pushed as far away from his bed as possible was also a mop and bucket. It was used by Harry for other things than just cleaning the floor. Harry all too frequently had to clean it out. The stench hung in the air of the poorly ventilated cupboard if he didn't clean it every day. Being locked away more than eight hours a day was just too long for Harry to hold it in._

_Harry pulled out his schoolbooks. Since he was locked in he might as well get something done. It would help keep him from dwelling on Uncle Vernon's return._

_By the time the clock struck five Harry had long finished his homework. He had moved on to studying for a test, which he would deliberately fail. That was another hard lesson he had learned, __never__ do anything better than Dudley._

_When the clock rang out for quarter to six, Harry could no longer study. He stood up and turned the light off. It would only make his uncle madder if they found him with the light on again. He curled up tightly in the corner to apprehensively wait for Uncle Vernon to come home._

_At six Aunt Petunia started to cook supper. His stomach rumbled at the smell of the chicken pot pies wafting from the oven. Sometime before the clock chimed six fifteen Uncle Vernon came home. Harry's heart swelled with hope that today was a good day for his uncle at work._

_"You'll never guess what happened today. They found the boy on top of the school. Then he went and tried to blame Dudley for it!" Petunia started in as soon as her husband set foot in the kitchen._

_"Un-bloody-believable! How dare he. I'll show him what's what," Vernon raged._

_"Vernon please. Remember Dumbledore's warning," Petunia cautioned._

_"Who cares what that old codger thinks? He doesn't have to put up with the boy. We do!" Vernon licked his lips nervously, betraying his boastful words._

_"Just take it easy. The principal asked if Dudley bullied Harry at home. We don't want him to sully our little Dudley's reputation further with those filthy lies,' Petunia warned. "I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea of how we raise the boy either."_

_"You're right there. The last time with that nosy teacher was a near disaster. It's unnerving what their kind can do. Just like that," Vernon snapped his fingers then continued, "neither one of those uppity teachers remembered a thing. Kind of gives me the willies just thinking about it. How long has he been locked up?"_

_"Since four or so. I caught the little snoop listening to me outside the kitchen window."_

_"He didn't. I bet that little thief stole the pocket change I left on the counter," Vernon said scornfully._

_"I did not! Dudley took it to get sweets for him and his friends," Harry suddenly hollered from the cupboard and kicked the wall in frustration. He slapped a hand over his mouth an instant later at his outburst._

_"I won't take back talk from you, you scrotty little runt!" Vernon swore, heading for the cupboard._

_"Vernon stop!"_

_The out of shape former athlete lumbered to a halt. His nostrils flared angrily._

_"Well, there's more for him than just the back of my hand. I'll just wait for the weekend to set him right. Give him a little treat to look forward to. But for tonight…" he leered and opened the cupboard._

_"Come on out boy. You've got work to do," he said in a false, friendly voice._

_Harry slowly climbed to his feet, wary of the concealed threat._

_"Come on," Vernon repeated motioning with his hand._

_In a burst of speed Harry shot out the door and ducked under Vernon's arm with his hands covering his bottom. Surprisingly he made it through untouched. He quickly spun around to watch his uncle._

_"Not tonight boy, but soon enough you'll get it. Tonight it's going to be nothing but chores for you. Yes. Right until Friday absolutely nothing but chores and the cupboard for you. Now go set the table."_

_Harry hurried to obey and quickly set the table for four. The aroma of the fresh chicken pot pies that filled the room was mouth watering. Vernon sat down at the table and peered at Harry critically, waiting for him to make a mistake._

_Dudley sauntered into the kitchen a few minutes later and strolled by the counters to see what was for desert._

_"Snitch," he muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear before sitting down next to his father._

_Ignoring the verbal jab, Harry finished setting the table._

_Petunia made her way around, serving up an individual chicken pot pie for each plate until she reached Harry._

_"Not tonight Petunia,' Vernon said swiftly. "He can watch us eat tonight. Maybe someday you'll learn not to bite the hand that feeds you, boy."_

_The unclaimed pies were set in the middle of the table for Harry to stare at._

_Petunia cut up Dudley's meal. She mixed the rich gravy with the flaky crust, crisp vegetables and tender white chicken. The savory dish sat steaming in front of the rotund boy._

_"Let it cool, Dudykins, or it will burn your mouth," Petunia affectionately warned him._

_Leaning in over the plate, Dudley breathed in deeply and gushed, "Gosh Mum that smells really yummy." He fanned the food in Harry's direction under the pretense of cooling the food. "Doesn't it smell good, Dad?" Dudley prompted for a second opinion._

_"Yes it does. Your Mum is a right fine cook, no two ways about it," Vernon replied playing along childishly with Dudley as he spitefully watched Harry out of the corner of his eye._

_Much to Dudley's delight Harry's stomach rumbled. He snickered in response and toyed with his food some more before taking a bite. "Mmmmm," Dudley hummed loudly._

_Harry's hands were clamped so tightly onto his chair his knuckles had turned white. There was nothing he could do but watch. The corner of his lip glistened with saliva._

_**Maybe I can nick something later when I clean the dishes**__. __He thought hopefully._

_"So," Vernon asked in a sickly sweet voice between mouthfuls, "how did you get on top of the school?"_

_"I dunno, sir," Harry replied quietly. He sipped at his water nervously, hoping to drown his gnawing stomach._

_"You don't know how? Reeeaallly?" Vernon asked skeptically. He scrutinized the petrified boy, trying to root out a confession_

_"Dudley, Piers and some other boys were chasin' me you see and..." Harry stopped right there when he noticed Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were glaring at him with hateful expressions. Vernon looked tightly wound and ready to pounce._

_His instinct for self preservation kicked in and he lied, "I snuck up the stairwell we aren't supposed to and climbed up the fire ladder to the roof."_

_"That's a lie, Dad," Dudley accused. "The door to the roof is always locked. Only the principal and school custodian have the key. Wait, I know! Maybe he flew up there. Like that flying motorcycle he's always goin' on about."_

_Dudley always knew how to take a troublesome issue for Harry and make it worse. Harry told about his flying motorcycle dream once and Vernon went on a rampage. Never ever did Harry mention any of his dreams again._

_He didn't dare say anything about the nightmares that woke him up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder - The nightmare about the green light and the red haired lady crying out his name before falling against his crib. How she slid down the bars with the light fading from her once sparkling green eyes. The sickening thud of her body hitting the floor. How she rolled on to her side to leave her beautiful face staring up at him with that awful blank stare. The dark man waving a stick at him and shouting what sounded like "__abracadabra__"._

_The back of Harry's shirt stuck to his sweaty back and he shivered in his chair remembering the nightmare. A sharp cuff behind his ear, however, brought him swiftly back to the conversation again._

_"Now answer me!" Vernon shouted._

_"I'm sorry, I don't know what you asked sir," Harry trembled._

_"I asked if you stole the keys, clunk head."_

_Dudley laughed hard at the clunk head comment. He wanted more than anything to crow, 'You're gonna get it! You're gonna get it!'_

_"No sir," Harry said shaking his head._

_"Then how did you get up there? I suppose they just left the door unlocked for any old kid to climb up on the roof."_

_Harry was digging himself in deep fast and floundered about for an acceptable answer. He couldn't think of anything and settled on the truth as he saw it._

_"There must of been a strong wind, sir. I was behind the alley running from... um playing… and then I was on the roof." Harry held his hands up helplessly at the end of explanation._

_Vernon sat up straight and leveled a haughty glare at Harry._

_"I knew it. Thought you'd keep one of your freaky things to yourself, did you? I told you what'd happen," Vernon finished by rolling up his sleeves._

_Harry sat very still watching in horror. He grabbed hold of the chair again and waited._

_The chair Vernon was sitting in screeched on the floor as he scooted away from the table. His meaty hand reached over and grabbed Harry's arm. He dragged Harry, and the chair he refused to let go of, over to him._

_"Let go of it, boy," he hissed menacingly._

_"Please don't. I didn't mean to," Harry cried._

_"Vernon, control yourself," Petunia cautioned him._

_"He's just going to get his arse beat, Petunia. We can't have him doing freaky things and expect to get away with it, can we?"_

_"No, you're right of course. Just do a proper job of it," she replied, hinting that Vernon wasn't to leave any noticeable bruises._

_"Now come here, boy," Vernon put his foot on Harry's chair and pulled the boy forcefully from his seat. He settled Harry over his knee and then dropped a heavy hand across the upraised posterior._

_Harry did his best to hold still. Vernon only hit harder if he resisted too much. To relieve a sore spot Harry wiggled a bit to present a slightly different target. After twenty solid blows Vernon set Harry back on his feet._

_"That was just a taste of what's coming Friday. Now sit until we finish eating," Vernon commanded evilly, knowing that Harry's bottom would feel like it was on fire._

_"Yes sir," Harry sniffled in reply. He pushed his chair back to where it belonged and leaned on the edge of the chair so it pressed just below the aggravated area._

_Vernon noticed though and swiftly reprimanded him. "Sit down properly."_

_Harry delicately hoisted himself onto the chair. He leaned against the table and pushed himself up from the seat, locking his arms to take the pressure off his screaming rear end._

_"He's holdin' himself up, Dad," Dudley pointed out as he started to pick at Harry's chicken pot pie. The boy wasn't that hungry but he couldn't pass on the opportunity to make his cousin as miserable as possible._

_"Put your arse down in that chair, sit up straight and put your hands in your lap. Now!"_

_Harry winced as he slowly lowered himself onto the chair. After a minute his eyes began to tear up and his lower lip quivered. The pain was excruciating._

_"Are you finished eating, Dudley?" Petunia asked politely, ignoring Harry's sweaty brow and the tears running from his puffy eyes._

_"Not yet, Mum. Is the apple cobbler for desert?" Dudley smiled sweetly up at Petunia. He was nothing but sheer politeness and an overabundance of patience tonight. Normally he couldn't get away from the table fast enough to watch the telly._

_Fifteen minutes later they finished eating. The Dursleys sat around the table chatting while Harry stiffly walked around clearing the plates. He scraped everything down the garbage disposal and didn't even try to nick a bite to eat. His bottom was so sore it had robbed him of his appetite._

_Harry suffered the same ordeal every night until Friday. It was seven thirty when Uncle Vernon opened the cupboard door. He scowled down at Harry who looked back pitifully. The man beaconed with his hand and sneered, "Its time boy."_

_Harry uncoiled his tightly wound body and arthritically stood up. He wrapped his arms around himself and reluctantly shuffled to the door. Vernon's hand lashed out, viciously seizing him by the upper arm, and yanked him out of the cupboard._

_Vernon took his time extracting his revenge. It was eight o'clock when Harry was finally tossed back in the cupboard. He barely managed to crawl onto his mattress. In the darkness Harry lost himself to the aches and sorrow of the brutal encounter. The door never opened again until seven Monday morning._

**oOo**

Remembering that weekend brought tears to Harry's eyes. He fearfully whispered, "what if they never let me out again?"

"Do you like it here with Bella?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded his head and quickly dried his eyes looking embarrassed. _Someone finally likes me and I keep crying like a big baby, _he thought to himself. In the deep recess of his mind a small voice whispered _but Mrs Figg holds you and rocks you when you cry_.

"Then I'll ask Gran to never make you go back again," Neville answered.

In an even lower whisper Harry asked, "What if Mrs Figg doesn't want me either?" His stomach lurched when he considered the possibility that she didn't like him as much as he liked her.

"Then you could stay with us. We have a really big manor," Neville stated.

"Kitchoo!" Harry sneezed. He threw a hand up to his face, blocking most of the flames. When he pulled his hand away there was a stringy gob of flaming snot running from Harry's nose to his hand.

"Ewwww," Neville laughed.

Arabella magically removed the black ring from the bathtub, dried the floor and picked up the towels after the boys. She shook her head in amusement.

_It's nice to have someone in the house to clean up after and take care of again. I didn't realize how much I missed my sons and grandchildren, s_he thought as she finished cleaning up.

She paused on her way out of the bathroom to listen to the boys. _It sounds like Neville, bless his little soul, is taking matters into his own hands, s_he thought and smiled at the budding friendship.

"Use a tissue, Harry! Don't you dare wipe that anywhere else," she warned the startled boy as she entered the room and saw Harry's hand.

Neville smiled and giggled at his friend.

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied in a thick, stuffed up voice. He stood up, holding his hand to his face so the mess didn't run all over the place, and looked around for something to blow his nose with.

"There's a box of tissues in the kitchen, Harry. Come with me."

Harry followed along obediently. "Choooo!" His nose crackled thickly, oozing even more snot into his hand.

"Oh dear, I'm probably going to need to get out the handkerchiefs for you and pick up some more tissues. Here let's just wash your hands and face," Arabella said leading him over to the sink.

"What're those?" Harry exclaimed looking at the toys on the table.

"You can have them in a minute after you get cleaned up." She summoned a chair over and transfigured it into a step stool so Harry could reach the faucet.

Harry washed the snotty mess from his hands with plenty of soap supplied by Arabella, then suffered in silent indignity as she washed his face.

"There, that's much better. Now give a good blow," she said holding a tissue to his nose.

Neville stood just inside the kitchen, watching.

"Those are wizard tops. I have some too. There are all kinds of games you can play," he said, looking at the toys on the table as Harry blew into the tissue.

Harry had had enough of Arabella fussing over him once he'd blown into the tissue and pulled away from the hand wiping his nose. He made his way over to the table and picked up one of the tops.

"How do you... kitchoo... play with them?" Harry asked, looking at Neville from the crook of his elbow that he'd used to sneeze into.

"I'll show you," Neville volunteered with a quirky smile.

The boys gathered all of the wizard tops together and crawled under the table. They divvied them up so they had three each.

"Now what?" Harry asked, examining one of the pieces that he held between his thumb and index finger. The toy was a cone shaped piece of wood with a peg centered on the flat side of the cone.

"Well, first you have to give them a spin. Like this," Neville instructed. He was sitting on his knees and leaned forward closer to the ground using his left arm to hold himself up. With the wooden peg held between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand Neville snapped his fingers. The top hit the floor, shooting green sparks, and started to spin. A green spiral of light flowed out making the top look like a miniature cyclone.

Harry tried clumsily to do as Neville showed him. "It's a bit tricky, isn't it?"

"It takes patience and practice. That's what Gran told me when I got mine," Neville replied, starting on his second one.

Neville had all three in motion by the time Harry called out triumphantly, "I got it!"

Harry's top spun along in a mundane fashion. There were no sparks or the accompanying colors like Neville's three tops. Neville's tops were still spinning brightly when Harry's slowly spun to a stop.

"How come mine doesn't work like that?" Harry asked a little disappointedly.

"Magic," Neville laughed.

Harry scowled and crossed his arms, "codswallop."

"No really. The more you want it to spin the faster and brighter it gets. Watch."

Neville moved his hand over one of the tops and stared at it intently. The other two tops lost momentum and slowed as the one top spun faster and faster. Soon the little green cyclone had grown in size and was starting to shoot sparks in addition to the wild swirl of color.

"Cool! Mrs Figg! Come see what Neville is doing," Harry called out in pride of his friend's accomplishment.

Arabella prowled silently into the room. Neither of the boys heard a sound as she entered and would never have noticed her if they hadn't seen her feet from under the kitchen table.

"Oh, that is nice Neville. Well done," she complimented the boy as she leaned down to take a look.

"Thank you, Bella," Neville answered shyly.

"Neville said it's…" Harry said clearly then whispered behind his hand, "…magic." He watched Mrs Figg nervously for her reaction.

Arabella nodded with encouragement. "And a fine bit of magic it is. Look at the bright green color as it spins and all of the sparks."

She waved her hand over Neville's top and the light turned blue. "I've always liked blue."

The boys looked up in amazement at her. "How did you do that?" Neville asked.

"Magic," she said and laughed.

Neville worked the process he'd just watched through his mind. With a great deal of effort the cyclone turned back to green.

"Well done, Neville," she praised.

She watched on in admiration for a minute as Neville continued to make the colors change before asking, "Are you two getting hungry yet? Would you like something to eat in about thirty minutes?"

"Yes please," they answered together a bit distractedly.

"Would you like to try, Harry?" Neville offered.

Harry scooted next to Neville so they were shoulder to shoulder and answered eagerly, "Please."

"It's easier to hold your hand over it at first. Just think about making it spin. The more you want it to spin the faster it goes," Neville instructed.

With a slightly trembling hand Harry reached towards the top. _Spin. Spin. Spin._

Neville eased his magic away from the top letting Harry take control. The miniature cyclone diminished in size as it started to slow down.

"Come on, Harry, you can do it," Neville encouraged.

Arabella watched the boys playing beneath the table. The wooden top began to wobble as the momentum declined.

"Focus, Harry. The magic will respond to your desire. Let it flow from you to the top. Like pouring water from the palm of your hand," she instructed.

Harry closed his eyes and let the power trickle from his hand. The spinning top slowly began to accelerate. The swirling green color brightened and the cyclone formed once again.

"You're doing it, Harry! You're doing it!" Neville shouted excitedly. "Faster, make it go faster!"

Sparks shot out from the spinning vortex as it continued to grow. When the cyclone was about the same size it had been when Neville had relinquished control it began to spin about recklessly. It continued to spin faster and faster.

"Control it, Harry. Keep it steady," Arabella cautioned.

The spinning tornado weaved back and forth hazardously. It bumped into a chair leg, kicking the piece of furniture away from the table.

Neville backed away from the out of control top, pulling Harry with him.

"Let go of it, Harry!"

Power continued to pour from Harry as he cried, "I can't!"

One of the unused tops on the floor was swept up in the vortex and shot across the room, gouging a hole in the wall. It scooped up the other four, shooting them out like shrapnel. They ricocheted about the room. One grazed Neville's brow, another shattered the glass door of the china hutch and some of the plates it contained.

"_Finite Incantatum!" _Arabella spoke, pointing her wand at the wayward wizard top.

"Wow, Harry," Neville said in an awestruck voice after a second.

Harry just trembled in response, looking at the various dings, gouges, broken glass and plates scattered on the ground. He looked positively ill. _No, oh no! What have I done? She'll send me back for sure._

His green tinged skin turned a shade darker. Harry's nerves got the better of him and he leaned away from Neville to violently expel the contents of his stomach.

Neville gave a sympathy gag and scooted on his bottom away from Harry's heaving body.

Arabella swiftly crouched down next to Harry. Her cool hand supported Harry's head as she gently rubbed his back.

"There, there, Harry. It's alright. Let it out," she soothed the distraught child.

His body was wracked with heaves and he trembled at her touch. Every time he thought about the damage in the kitchen his stomach raised up in him, discharging phlegm and partially digested food until there was nothing left.

"I'm sorry. Please. I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up," Harry begged between the dry heaves that still wracked his body.

Neville watched his friend helplessly, hoping Bella would take care of Harry.

Arabella drew her wand and incanted, "_Scourgify." _The spell cleaned the bile from the floor and his nightshirt. She waited a moment to make sure Harry could see that the mess was cleaned up before she picked him up and planted him on her hip.

"Are you watching, Harry?" She asked.

Harry gave a nervous hiccup and stifled his tears long enough to nod once against her shoulder.

Arabella whisked her wand, "_Reparo." _With the verbal component the dishes and glass door reassembled. A few more applications of the spell repaired the various dings and gouges around the kitchen.

She turned Harry on her hip to look him in the eye.

"There. It's all fixed."

Harry blinked his teary green eyes at her and licked his quivering lips. His hands continued to clench at her shirtsleeves nervously. With a waveirng voice Harry asked, "You're not mad?"

To his surprise Mrs Figg hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Of course not."

He butted his head into Mrs Figg's shoulder and fiercely hugged her back. Harry cried into her shoulder so hard he shook in her arms. "Thank you," he sobbed.

Arabella rocked him in her arms, patting him on the back, waiting for the little boy to calm himself in his own time. She walked over to the sink and poured a small glass of water. "Rinse your mouth and spit it out." She commanded the little boy in her arms.

Harry complied, grateful to get the awful sour taste out of his mouth.

Neville watched silently from the floor. He smiled warmly up at Bella when she noticed him watching them.

Once Harry had calmed down she beckoned Neville to her.

"Let me see your battle wound Neville."

Neville smiled at the thought of having a new injury and happily jaunted over to her.

Harry was still securely attached to Mrs Figg's hip and peered down curiously at Neville when he heard that his friend was hurt. He looked at the trickle of blood on Neville's forehead.

"Let's go to the bathroom and clean that off. Then we can see how bad it is," Arabella said gently, putting her hand on the back of Neville's head and steering him to the bathroom.

She didn't attempt to put Harry down knowing that he would just resist her. It was getting easier for her to recognize Harry's needs and wants. Right now he needed to be comforted and she knew he preferred to be held. _He absolutely relishes every touch. The damn Dursleys probably never laid a hand on Harry other than to hurt him. _

Arabella wet a washcloth with her free hand and gently wiped the blood from Neville revealing a small cut over his eyebrow.

"Well, you were struck a mighty blow and kept your wits about you. That was very smart to back out of harms way and take Harry with you," she kindly praised Neville.

She remembered that Neville's father, Frank, had loved heroics as a child and absorbed every story about chivalrous champions. Apparently the interest was hereditary judging by the shine in Neville's eye and his broad smile.

"A healing balm will take care of it," she said pulling out a jar. With the deft expertise of a mother she shifted Harry's bottom onto her forearm so she could use both hands to open the container. She dipped her finger in and gently rubbed the lotion onto Neville's cut.

"Don't itch," she warned Neville.

By the time she put the balm back in the medicine cabinet the wound was healed.

**oOo**

Augusta was walking down Diagon Alley on her way back to the Leaky Cauldron when she happened upon Amelia Bones, head of the department of magical law enforcement. Amelia was apparently in a rush as she shot out of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary.

"Oh, excuse me," Amelia pardoned herself.

With a look of disbelief on her face Augusta found herself looking at the subject of conversation she'd had with Arabella that very morning before she'd set out on her errands.

A look of mild irritation crossed Amelia's face when she saw the other woman's expression.

With a quick recovery Augusta smiled at the younger woman.

"Amelia! You startled me. I was just talking about you this morning with an old friend. How have you been?"

Amelia chuckled and smiled back at Augusta. When Amelia was an Auror, Augusta had become her first staunch supporter. Her apprehensions had a higher conviction rate because Augusta believed in Amelia and would sway her fellow officials on Amelia's behalf. Later when Crouch stepped down from his position, Augusta had nominated Amelia as the new head of the DMLE.

"Busy. I needed to pick up a few things from the apothecary and thought I could make a quick trip during lunch. How about yourself?"

"The same. Neville is quite a handful. He is the spitting image of Frank and twice as ornery. It was a good thing I decided to make him my priority. I don't think I could manage Ministry duties and give him the attention he needs," August replied.

"I understand what you mean. My niece Susan is a delight but she certainly keeps me busy. I wish I could have done the same thing as you but someone has to keep everything in order," she said smiling.

"I always admired your dedication in everything you did, Amelia. I am sure you are more than up to the task of raising Susan. Maybe you and Susan should stop by for a visit soon. I left Neville with Arabella Figg this morning. She has a grandson in her home that has Dragon Pox," Augusta stated, planting the seed for Amelia's consideration.

"The poor dear. But why would you take Neville over? Oh, I see, you're deliberately exposing Neville to it."

Augusta nodded her head, pleased that the astute woman had so quickly come to the conclusion she wanted.

"It is better to have it now. I can take better care of him while he is at home. Definitely better than to catching it in his first year at Hogwarts like so many children do," Augusta explained.

"I was one of those children. It is a miserable way to begin Hogwarts. I was terribly home sick those first few months. Then I caught Dragon Pox and had to spend nearly two awful weeks in the infirmary." After thinking about it for a moment Amelia asked, "Do you think Arabella would mind if I brought Susan over?"

"Certainly not. It was her idea to have a pox party. I plan on making sure Neville catches it. He will be there the rest of the afternoon and we will visit again tomorrow. I think we are going to take turns watching the boys so we can still get a few things done for ourselves. Just two children is a meager party. Do you have time to drop Susan off this afternoon?" Augusta invited the woman.

"She is with the Abbots. I can floo over and pick her up."

"I'll just go back to Arabella's and let her know you are coming over."

Utilizing the convenience of the floo network the women parted ways at the Leaky Cauldron. Not only did the floo allow communication between fireplaces, it was also the most common mode of transportation. Most homes and nearly all business districts had anti-apparation wards. Not to mention the fact that anyone under the age of sixteen was not permitted to apparate until they were certified to do so. Very few magical folk were powerful enough to apparate more than twenty miles or without being familiar with the destination. With the floo network you only needed a pinch of floo powder and the name of where you wanted to go.

Arabella unlocked the floo to admit Augusta when she called.

"So how did it go?" Arabella asked her friend as she stepped out of the fireplace.

Augusta smiled confidently at her friend.

"Better than you can possibly imagine. You remember our conversation regarding Director Bones?"

"I'm not senile, of course I do," Arabella answered a little irritably. "Do you think we need to contact her?"

"I met her in Diagon Alley. She is on her way over with her niece, Susan. Evidently, Amelia was unfortunate enough to catch the pox in her first year at Hogwarts. It is an experience she does not want Susan to have. I told her one of your visiting grandsons was in a contagious stage and Neville was already here."

"By Merlin's beard! That was a lucky encounter. Should we introduce her to Harry? Will she have the time to hear us out?" Arabella rattled off questions a little panicky as she began to pace.

"Arabella! Calm down. Amelia is a busy woman. If she discovers his identity when she drops off Susan, we will make her take the time to listen. Otherwise we will discuss this with her tonight when she picks her niece up."

Arabella stopped pacing and took a deep breath.

"We knew this was coming. Everything is going according to plan so far," she replied more to herself than Augusta.

"It is better than I had hoped for, Arabella," Augusta agreed.

"Will you wake the boys while I wait for Director Bones' call?"

"Neville is sleeping? How did you manage that? I have to struggle with him at home and here he is on unfamiliar ground with another boy to play with," Augusta replied, shaking her head in wonder.

"I think they just wanted to be together and Harry needed the rest. It's been about half an hour now. They're in Harry's room," Arabella answered.

Augusta smiled as she turned to get the boys. _So it's Harry's room now. Now we just have to fight to keep it that way. May Merlin have mercy on who ever stands in our way for we shall not._

She walked into Harry's room and looked down at the two boys sleeping side by side beneath a light quilt. The long white haired Kneazle was lying between them. Augusta noted the black hand mark had been removed. _They look at peace. It is a shame to wake them. Amelia will be curious about the boys though._

Once Augusta was seated on the side of the bed she reached over and cupped Neville's cheek tenderly. Weaving her other hand through his hair she called his name softly, "Neville."

The boy stirred beneath her touch and stretched his arms behind his head. "Gran," he smiled.

"It's time to get up. We have another guest arriving for you and Harry to play with."

"Really! We've had so much fun. Harry shot flaming snot from his nose!"

"Neville! That is hardly the way for a gentleman to talk," Augusta reprimanded him quietly mindful of Harry.

"Well he did," Neville answered in a quiet but rebellious voice. He looked at his friend sleeping beside him. Then looked at Augusta very seriously. "I have to tell you something."

"What dear?" Augusta asked with concern. Neville was normally high spirited and happy. The somber change of attitude worried her.

He glanced cautiously at Harry to make sure he was still asleep.

"Harry's aunt and uncle are mean to him. They put him away and his uncle hits him. He doesn't want to go back. Harry's afraid they will lock him up and forget about him. Please don't let him go back."

"Doctor Henderson told Arabella and me that Harry was abused," she replied. Seeing the question on his face she further explained, "The welts and bruises on Harry are forms of abuse Neville. Nobody should ever treat a child like that. We suspected his relatives were responsible but we did not know for sure. Harry refused to say anything about it."

"Well, he told me," Neville said proudly, "but Harry didn't want me to tell anyone else."

"Did Harry say why?"

"Yeah," Neville started to say.

"Yes, Neville. Speak properly please," Augusta corrected.

"Yes Ma'am. Harry told a teacher once and his relatives were asked to pick him up from the school. There was an old guy with a long white beard with them but nothing happened. The school people never said anything about it again. After that, his relatives acted like Harry wasn't even around sometimes. They locked him in the cupboard for a really long time."

Augusta's eyes glittered vindictively.

"An old gentlemen with a long white beard," she repeated to herself in a rich timbre. _Albus you have been busy. You should know better than to magically erase memories and influence people, especially Muggles._

Neville looked at his Gran with some alarm. He recognized that tone of voice, which always heralded great regret when it was directed at him.

Seeing Neville's nervousness she smiled at him comfortingly.

"Did Harry say anything else?"

With a sigh of relief he realized his Gran was not angry with him.

"No, but I think he really likes Bella. I think she likes him too. I told him that you wouldn't make him go back. He's afraid Bella won't want him though." He looked at Augusta precariously but continued on bravely, "I said that he could stay with us at the Longbottom Manor, if she doesn't want him. I think that Bella really really likes him though."

"You are right, Neville. Arabella does like Harry a great deal. We have discussed Harry's circumstances and neither Arabella nor I will give Harry back."

Neville scrambled into her lap and gave her a hug.

"I told Harry you would stop them. I just knew you would."

Her heart warmed with Neville's pronouncement and utter confidence that she would take care of his new friend. Augusta kissed his head and set him on the floor.

"Go see if the guests have arrived. Let Arabella know that Harry and I will be out in a minute."

Neville ran from the room and dropped to his knees, sliding across the hard wood floor mimicking what Harry had done earlier that morning. Augusta was about to scold him for it but restrained herself when she thought of Harry still soundly sleeping beside her.

Augusta turned back to Harry and placed the palm of her hand on his chest. She swirled her hand in circles to gradually alert him to her presence. Her hand moved up to his shoulder to gently shake him.

"Harry," she whispered to the slumbering boy.

She gently shook him again. Suddenly his eyes shot open and Harry hectically pushed himself back against the headboard. His knees curled to his chest and he locked his arms around his legs in a defensive position.

Sensing Harry's fright, the white Kneazle leapt up defensively between Augusta and Harry to furiously spit her displeasure and warn Augusta away. The protective cat arched her back to appear much larger and aggressive uttering a deep-throated growl until Augusta stood up and backed away.

Augusta looked at Harry with pity. _Children should not go from a sound sleep to a terrified posture of defense. I can hardly wait to meet his relatives, if Arabella leaves anything of them that is. _

Over the Kneazle's angry protests Augusta called out to the little black haired boy. "Harry, it's Augusta Longbottom. Neville's Gran. Look at me, Harry," she called in a rich calming voice.

It took a moment for Harry to get his bearings. He blinked his eyes sleepily and then squinted at the woman before him.

"Hi," he answered shyly. In a nervous gesture he started to rub the soft, silk nightshirt up and down his shins.

Snowy stopped growling at Augusta but still would not budge from between them.

The noble madam peered at the cat with appreciation. _I am going to ask Arabella for a kitten from one of her litters as soon as I think Neville can bond with a familiar. Neville seems to like them and they are completely loyal to a fault._

"Harry, Arabella and Neville are waiting for us. There are some guests we would like you to meet. Will you come out to see them?"

"Where's Mrs Figg?" Harry asked in a needy little voice.

"She is waiting for the guests to arrive. Let's put on your glasses first and then go see Arabella," she said, stepping over to the nightstand and handed him his lenses.

Harry shoved them onto his face and grinned timidly at her.

"Thank you, Madam Longbottom." The boy scooted to the edge of the bed, swung his legs over the side and slid onto the floor.

Augusta patted Harry on the shoulder and guided him out the door ahead of her. As they approached the parlor Harry could hear unfamiliar voices and slowed down in response. He gradually drifted behind her and slipped out from under her arm to follow the grand woman. She felt Harry's small hand catch the sash of her dress.

When they reached the parlor she stood in the entry, allowing Harry to peer out timidly from behind her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she realized that Harry was letting her assume the role of his protector.

_Now I see why Arabella is so adamant about taking him in. He is a precious boy. Arabella is already devoted to him and Neville is quickly becoming a steadfast supporter. And now I feel myself following their lead. It isn't that surprising. His parents knew no strangers and were well liked by nearly everyone. The only rivalry I heard of was between James and Professor Severus Snape. It was a tragic surprise when Sirius betrayed them._

She was a little surprised to see a larger group of people around the fireplace than she had expected. Amelia Bones stood next to another lady whom she assumed to be Mrs Abbot. There were two girls standing side by side shyly watching Neville. The Kneazles were winding about the visitors busily inspecting them. The little girls made appreciative noises of the beautiful cats and giggled as they sniffed. _Amelia is probably the only one that knows the cats are scrutinizing them. From the look on her face it appears that she is aware of the wand Arabella has pointed in their direction. _

"Director Bones," Augusta greeted.

"Madam Longbottom," Amelia replied.

"We were just making a round of introductions," Arabella said. "This is Lorraine Abbot and her daughter Hannah. This is Susan Bones." She gestured to each of them in turn as they were introduced. Lorraine stepped towards Augusta, extending her hand in a friendly greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, Ma'am."

Augusta felt Harry brush against the back of her dress as he retreated further behind her.

She accepted the greeting in kind and gracefully shook the younger woman's hand.

"Like wise, Lorraine."

Since she had never met any of the Longbottoms before Lorraine asked, "Is that your grandson?" A warm friendly smile spread across her face as she leaned over a bit to peer around at the timid little boy.

"I won't bite, sweetie. What's your name?" She asked as gently as she could.

"Harry Potter Mrs." Harry's soft voice replied to the nice lady.

As quiet as his voice was it captured the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes turned to him. Amelia and Lorraine paused to make certain they had heard correctly. The girls started to twitter excitedly. Even Neville looked at his new friend curiously.

"Oh," Lorraine answered in a startled tone.

Harry was now directly behind Augusta. His little hands trembled at the thought of everyone looking at him. Having everyone's attention on him never bode well for Harry and he wanted nothing more than to hide.

Augusta turned slightly and put her hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer. Harry buried his face in her side and held onto her waist, welcoming the shelter Augusta offered him.

"Perhaps the two of you should stay for tea," Augusta said in a politely phrased command.

"Yes. I think that would be a good idea," Amelia replied conservatively.

Suddenly, Harry's black head jerked away from Augusta. His face scrunched up and he wiggled his nose before releasing a loud, "KACHOO!" Flames shot from his mouth and startled everyone.

Before Arabella could stop Harry, he reached up and dragged a sleeve across his runny nose. She crossed the room and handed him one of the handkerchiefs she had dug out while he was resting.

"Blow," she said, holding the handkerchief to his face.

Harry's nose rumbled in response as he shyly watched all of the strangers in the room. One of the girls giggled at him and his cheeks went rosey.

"Again," Arabella said, moving the handkerchief to a clean spot. A quick cleaning charm removed the mucus. She tucked the handkerchief into his sleeve. "Use that instead of your sleeve please."

Harry nodded his head in silent consent. He hung his head to study the floor, ignoring the people who were staring at him. One of Harry's hands snuck its way into Arabella's.

Feeling his little hand shake Arabella picked him up and held him. Harry rested his head on her shoulder and promptly fastened one hand on the collar of her shirt. He peeked out from under his fringe to look at the strangers.

"Willow," Augusta called.

There was a 'pop!' in the room as air quickly redistributed around the house elf that just materialized.

Harry gave a startled little jump in Arabella's arms at the sudden appearance of the long eared, tiny figure.

"Yes, Madam?" the diminutive creature replied.

"Tea and biscuits please," Augusta requested.

"As you wish Madam," Willow replied and bowed before vanishing to complete her task.

"Neville, young ladies would you follow me to the kitchen please," Augusta said, leading all of the children except Harry out of the parlor.

Arabella gestured to the seats in the parlor as Augusta and the other children left.

"Please make yourselves comfortable." She invited, before taking a seat in one of the wooden rockers and sitting Harry on her lap. Seeing the women continue to peer at Harry she turned his chin up and parted his hair to show the lightning bolt shaped scar.

Harry fidgeted under the intrusive stares and turned his back to them.

Satisfied that it was indeed Harry Potter sitting in Arabella's lap the other women pried their attention away from the bashful boy.

"How is the department these days, Director Bones?" Arabella asked, starting a conversation to fill the awkward silence.

**oOo**

They had just made it to the kitchen when the children exploded with excitement.

"Is that really Harry Potter?" The little blond haired girl with pigtails asked in a high-pitched, anxious voice. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of Augusta, eagerly waiting for an answer.

"Yes. He is. Now I want the three of you to listen to me. Harry has been raised by his muggle relatives," Augusta started to say.

Several 'ohs' and 'ahs' were uttered, interrupting Augusta. Neville made an angry face at the mention of Harry's relatives.

"Now let me finish. He does not know anything about how the Dark Lord was banished. Nor does he know what happened to his parents. So I ask each of you not to say anything about it to him. Just play with Harry like you would anyone else. Can you do that?" She finished, looking steadily at the children. They were only six. Chances are it wasn't going to do a bit of good but she had to try.

The three kids chorused together, "Yes."

"Thank you. Harry will be out to play shortly," Augusta thanked them and returned to the parlor.

Augusta found Harry sitting in Arabella's lap ignoring everyone in the room. His hand was busy twisting Arabella's collar. Augusta stepped up to them and gently placed her hand on Harry's back.

"Would you like to go and play with Neville and the girls?" She asked him kindly.

Harry's hand stopped and he turned to nod his head at Augusta. He climbed down from Arabella's lap and reached out to hold Augusta's hand to her surprise.

She looked down to gaze into his worried green eyes, remembering her conversation from the day before when Harry had pitifully stated that he would understand if Neville didn't want to play him.

_Although Neville and Harry seem to be getting along quite well he's nervous about the girls. He obviously doesn't handle undue attention well and is afraid that the girls won't like him. I hope the children do as I asked and are just willing to play with him. _

"I will be right back," Augusta apologized to the women whom smiled understandingly at her. Their eyes crept down to watch Harry shrink into her side and out of their sight.

_Frank always said James had every girl in the school at his beck and call, including the professors. Even the stern Professor McGonagall had a soft spot for him. Harry is a very cute little boy now that he has been cleaned up and his shy demeanor is only attracting more attention. Merlin help us all if he figures this out._

"That unruly mop of black hair is adorable and those charming green eyes," Lorraine cooed as they walked out of the room. She itched to pick him up but could tell that would not be welcomed by the tiny boy.

"Yes, they are a beautiful shade of green. If he will look at you long enough for you to see them," Director Bones agreed with a smile as she fixed the cup of tea to her liking.

When everyone had settled in, Arabella requested Lorraine to refrain from telling anyone that she had seen Harry Potter. Lorraine complied with the perfectly reasonable request in complete understanding. Arabella made no such request of Director Bones, whom she trusted to be discreet and would do what was required of her position. Arabella fell into her old role as an Auror and gave a complete briefing including the doctor's report.

The only sound that could be heard when Arabella finished speaking was the children playing in the other room.

Lorraine shook her head sadly at what she had learned.

"I will make sure Hannah understands that we cannot tell anyone that we have seen Harry. If you need someone to watch Harry while you take care of things, let me know. I wish I could be of greater help."

"Thank you, Lorraine. I appreciate the offer. It may be necessary for me to take you up on that," Arabella replied sincerely.

"Can you have Dr Henderson send his abuse report to my home instead of the DMLE?" Amelia asked after a moment of consideration. "I do not want this to go through office mail. Arabella, try to have your child advocate application rushed. Harry is obviously comfortable with you and as a former Auror you are better prepared to care for his safety than a civilian. We should move you and Harry to a more secure location in the next few days. An old estate with appropriate warding would be preferred," Amelia said looking at Augusta pointedly.

"Neville will be overjoyed if you came to stay. I will have the house elves clean the guest house for you and Harry," Augusta answered, nodding in agreement.

"I would like to take a few pictures of Harry to add to the doctor's report. Too much evidence is preferable to not enough. This will help with the muggle courts as well. They are even more reliant on pictures than our courts," Amelia said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a miniature Polaroid instant camera.

"We'll take Harry to his room for the pictures," Arabella said standing up. _This may not go over well with Harry after this morning. The doctor pressing him for details about his injuries and now we want to take pictures of him. It has been a rough twenty four hours for the poor boy._

She led Director Bones to the kitchen where they found the children sitting at the table playing a game of memory with their tea and biscuits.

"Harry, can we see you for a little bit in your room please?"

Harry's happy little face while playing dimmed to a guarded expression.

"Now? Can't I finish?" Harry rebutted.

"Director Bones has many things she needs to do today. It would not be considerate of us to keep her waiting," Arabella explained patiently.

"Alright," Harry answered reluctantly and stood up. He walked over to Arabella's side, standing as close to her as possible but did not take her hand or lead the way to his room.

She put a hand around his shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. His tiny frame leaned into her but she still had to give him a gentle push towards the bedroom. Arabella had to keep a hand on his back to keep him moving along.

_What do they want? I don't want to talk about that stuff anymore. It's not fair. If Neville would have kept his stupid mouth shut. _Harry cringed at the last thought about his friend. He looked back over his shoulder guiltily at Neville.

In short order they were in Harry's room and the door shut firmly behind them.

"Alright, Harry. I want to take a few pictures. Could you stand right over here against this wall for me please," Amelia said, taking command of the situation.

Harry slowly complied.

"Now face me and look up. Good." The camera flashed brightly and a picture spewed out the bottom. She looked at the picture to check the quality.

"Take off your nightshirt," Amelia commanded in a firm voice.

Harry's heart plummeted right down to the ground and a chill crawled up his spine. He turned to Arabella with a desperate look.

"Mrs Figg, please no."

Arabella's heart wrenched when she replied, "Do as the Director tells you, Harry."

The hurt look on Harry's face was almost too much for her.

"Now Harry. It will be much faster if you cooperate. Then you can go back and play."

"I don't want to play anymore. I don't want all these people here. It's all Neville's fault. He's a stupid ol' tattletale. Why can't it just be us like yesterday?"

"Harry this is for your own good. We are trying to take care of you. Please let us," Arabella tried to reason.

"Why now? You knew... You knew they hit me. I told you once too, just like the teacher at school. Both of you knew and nothin' was done 'bout it," Harry angrily accused.

Arabella was startled at the revelation. Her throat caught and her lips worked without sound. _That old bastard will pay for altering my mind and what he has done to Harry. _

"I thought this time might be different. Jus' send me back to the Dursleys," Harry said dully.

It couldn't have hurt more if Harry would have hexed her.

_Whatever it takes to get you away from the Dursleys, Harry, whatever it takes. I am the adult here and we will do what is necessary, _Arabella thought reassuringly to herself.

Amelia stepped forward and pulled out a badge.

Harry backed into the wall and flashed frightened looks from the badge to Director Bones.

"Absolutely not young man. You will stay here with Mrs Figg until you are otherwise notified. I don't think you realize who I am or what is going on. Mrs Figg has contacted a metaphysician on your behalf. It was determined by Dr Henderson that you have been mistreated at home. He has filed a report with the Ministry of Magic. Now I am here to acquire further proof of your abuse. I am a representative of the law and you will do as you are told," Amelia Bones barked at Harry.

"Yes Ma'am," Harry complied. He vigorously nodded his head rattling his glasses to further convey his sincerity.

Harry took off the nightshirt but held it in front of him in an effort to preserve a little modesty before the camera. He trembled nervously in front of Director Bones as she looked him over.

"What are the lines on his chest?" Amelia asked as her eyes followed the faded gray lines around his torso.

"Harry and Neville decided to play connect the dots," Arabella said ruffling Harry's head.

"I won," Harry muttered.

A short sharp laugh escaped from Amelia. She couldn't help herself when the sullen little boy claimed victory.

Harry flipped the nightshirt back over his head as soon as Amelia said she was done. He slipped away from Arabella's touch and out to the parlor without a word to anyone. Instead of joining the other children he curled up at the end of the couch and tucked his legs up under his nightshirt, ignoring everyone as he crossed his arms over his knees.

Amelia watched him retreat with sad eyes. "He has had a hard life hasn't he?"

"From what I can remember yes," Arabella replied stoically.

"Harry said that he told you that his relatives hit him," Amelia prompted.

"I honestly don't remember that. There are more memories that I believe are missing. Dr Henderson has scheduled an appointment at St Mungos to check for memory alterations," Arabella admitted.

Amelia thumbed through the pictures one more time. Harry's sad face looking up at her clutching the nightshirt to his shrunken waist was a tearjerker. The various injuries assaulting his backside would enrage any decent person. She smiled grimly pleased with the pictures.

_Any parent would be ready to lynch the person responsible for these heinous wounds. The Dursleys may have to be put into protective custody over this,_ Amelia thought to herself.

**oOo**

Dr. Henderson's secretary rounded up the paperwork sealing various scrolls in a hurry to depart for the day. The school play started in half an hour and she wanted to have a good seat to see her son's debut on the stage. Without a second thought she attached the child endangerment form to the owl and sent it on its way despite the note with instructions to mail it at the end of the business day.

A mail clerk at the Ministry of Magic quickly screened the incoming correspondence from the owl post to determine where to send it. She stopped momentarily to peruse a domestic abuse report filed from the office of Dr Henderson. The name of the victim had been suppressed by an obfuscation charm.

The woman discreetly pulled out a bifocal magnifying glass that had been charmed to see through illusions and reveal invisible script.

_Harry James Potter! That's galleons in the pouch for me. _

She leaned forward over the parchment peering about the busy office from the corner of her eyes before quickly casting a copy charm. She then rolled the parchment up and stuck it in her bag.

The original paperwork was processed moments later and placed at the bottom of the pile directed to the department of magical law enforcement. The clerk stood up and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, time for lunch. I don't think I can wait a moment longer today," she announced to no one in particular on her way out.

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Thank you for reading the chapter. Please take a minute to leave a review. All comments are welcome.


	6. Party Crashers

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason. The chapter contains mild language, brief sexual reference and violence (just a fist fight nothing too graphic). **

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

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**Chapter Six: Party Crashers**

Tracie had been a lackluster student at Hogwarts. She didn't achieve the necessary scores to take the classes that would have paved the way to lucrative careers. Her goal at school had been to have fun and to take the easiest classes. Tracie had a knack for using others. She would befriend individuals for the sole purpose of copying homework or getting them to do the assignments for her. As a Slytherin, she desired great things but lacked the ambition to work for them. To stand on the shoulders of giants or walk over anyone who did not make her look good was her style.

Post graduation had been a shock for her. She was not wealthy, and while fun to be with at school she was not welcome among the well to do circle. The ability to dominate and insert herself into any conversation, welcome or not, was not a valuable asset. The smarter or more serious graduates moved onto greater things, while Tracie struggled as a barista in Diagon Alley, hoping to find a better future.

At her five year Hogwarts reunion Tracie found, to her regret, that she was not nearly as popular as she once believed. There were many who nourished bitter memories of the callous treatment received from Tracie. The wealthy and influential individuals she tried so hard to impress would not even acknowledge her. After a few failed attempts to enter various conversations, Tracie found that she had little in common with her previous clique. She had no relevant work experience, a husband or children to talk about. In short, Hogwarts was in the past.

A fellow Slytherin who had a slightly better talent than using others to his advantage stumbled across her path. Dave Gaidley had been a conceited arse with a mediocre talent at Quidditch. What he excelled at was brown nosing. The ability to suck up to the powers that be could indeed get you ahead in life. Evidently Dave had his head buried so far up some Ministry official's arse that he could smell their breath. This awe-inspiring gift had granted him a small measure of power.

A one night stand later, Tracie had landed a position as a clerk in the mailroom at the Ministry of Magic. All it took was a willingness to sacrifice her pride and submit to a power monger's ego. Unfortunately for Tracie, there was much more attached than one night of demeaning sex.

A few weeks after starting her new job she had lunch with Dave. It was a small out of the way establishment with good food and a low profile. It had all the charm of a back alley mugging. The conversation had started innocently enough. The 'rah rah' help me help you load of shite. Foolishly, Tracie believed Dave was on her side. All she had to do was keep an eye out for anything that might be interesting.

Three years later, Tracie knew the truth. She had been skipped for every promotion and any attempt to transfer to another department was denied. Tracie was pigeon holed with no opportunity to move up and no better alternatives. The raises were beneath the cost of living. Her only bonus was the galleons received for finding something useful. Dave paid her handsomely for the inside knowledge.

To spite her sponsor, Tracie found the entrepreneur inside herself. Surely, Dave was not the only one interested in this information. Someone else might be just as willing to buy what she had. Tracie bitterly thought about the option for several weeks until she finally worked up the courage to do it. Dave hadn't said that the information was to only go to him. _It would serve the arse kissing bastard right, if I became a free agent_, she thought to herself. I'll _sell the information to the highest bidder or sell it to everyone with the gold to pay for it._

It took awhile to contact the right person at the Daily Prophet. She started by selling her findings a day or two after meeting with Dave, the arse licker. He either didn't know what she was doing or didn't care. So Tracie kept double dipping.

Months later Tracie nearly ran out of the mailroom in unbridled jubilation. She wanted to scream hysterically, _I've got the bloody golden ticket! Just like that Charlie bloke from that nonsense Muggle_ _story about a chocolate factory_. There was such a spring in her step she was practically skipping on her way to meet Dave - arse breath - Gaidley. Oh what she would give to say, 'got a spot of shite on your nose, Davo.' She felt great! She nearly waived the hand holding the copy of the abuse report of one Harry James Potter - _the boy-who-lived-to-make-me-bloody-rich_! – through the air.

Rita Skeeter was incensed when her contact from the Ministry mailroom asked for one hundred galleons. When she balked at the price, the mailroom bimbo had the gall to laugh and say, "Your loss, someone else's gain."

It was against Rita's nature to let someone else beat her to the scoop. With her unique talents it didn't happen, especially when she paid a few reliable sources on the side. It didn't hurt that she would sell her pen to smear anyone's reputation, if the price was right. Juicy pieces of information just seemed to fall into her eager hands. So, much to her chagrin, Rita shelled out the one hundred galleons to the greedy mail clerk.

_Maybe someday I will write an expose on the unscrupulous conduct of Ministry employees and feature this tart in the story," _Rita thought vindictively as she handed over the money.

She fumed to herself all the way back to the office. The door slammed shut behind her and she sat down at her desk. She smoothed the paperwork out on the desktop and started to read through the medical report. It was mildly interesting. Small size, poor vision, dry skin and hair loss were sighted as signs of malnourishment. The boy in question bore multiple contusions, suspected lashes from a belt and a fractured rib. Multiple bones had been broken and left to be healed by the young wizard's magic. A footnote discussed the possibility of having to break the bones again and reset them or removing the bones altogether and having them re-grown. Rita shuddered at the thought of the painful process then finished reading.

The information was shaping up to be a nice sordid affair. If only the child was from a pureblood family or even better an ancient family. She would have the evidence of a public scandal in her hands. Rita flipped back excitedly to the first page of the domestic abuse report and looked for the name. The obfuscated field glared at her challengingly. She pulled out her wand and taped the concealed writing, "_finite incantatem." _

Rita nearly fell out of her chair when she saw the name.

**oOo**

Augusta and Lorraine had watched Harry walk miserably into the parlor and climb up onto the couch. He'd picked the furthest seat from everyone in the room and turned his back to them. The tiny black haired boy had tucked his legs up under his nightshirt and was now hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

"Hmhm," Augusta cleared her throat trying to get Harry's attention.

He responded by burying his face in his knees.

Augusta stood up. "I think I would like some more tea. Would you care to join me in the kitchen, Lorraine?"

Lorraine looked sadly at the lonely boy on the couch and struggled with her desire to go and comfort him. After a moment, however, she followed Augusta's lead and stood up.

"Yes please."

_I am a Hufflepuff through and through. The Lions don't realize Harry needs comforting despite his closed off posture. Perhaps I should say something._

Lorraine turned her eyes away from Harry and looked at Augusta steadily, prepared to state her opinion.

"He just needs a minute alone. Arabella will take care of him," Augusta assured the other woman with a smile, noticing Lorraine's concern.

_Harry will need to learn that not everyone is out to hurt him. There are caring and trustworthy people. I will suggest to Arabella that Lorraine would do an admirable job of watching Harry, _Augusta thought as they entered the kitchen_._

Once the women had left, Snowy leapt onto the couch and slunk her way towards Harry. She could sense his sad mood and casually approached the small boy. On her first pass she rubbed along Harry's right side, leaning into his ribs and legs, which were pulled up under his nightshirt. The Kneezle repeated the process when Harry did not respond and pet her. This time she butted her head forcefully against his right elbow.

Her persistence was rewarded when Harry finally dropped his right hand to stroke her. Snowy purred her approval and circled around once more. She nosed his elbow again and walked beneath the length of his arm, feeling it run down her back. His fingers curled to gently comb the length of her back. After a few more passes, Harry turned his head to look at the white, long-haired Kneezle.

"Your a good girl, Snowy," he said in a raspy voice. Snowy curled up along his side and purred contentedly as Harry continued to stroke her.

Arabella smiled when she saw Harry on the couch with Snowy by his side. All of the Kneazles liked Harry but Snowy was particularly fond of him. Harry always seemed to react positively to her presence. In the last twenty four hours, she had started to become very territorial about him. The others were beginning defer to her preference regarding Harry.

Harry did his best to focus on petting Snowy when Director Bones and Mrs Figg walked in. He hung his head lower but peered out from under his fringe as the floo was activated. Magic was new and wondrous to him and he couldn't help but watch.

The women concluded their business, noting that Harry continued to peek in their direction.

"I will pick up Susan from Lorraine tonight. If it is alright, I might bring her over again tomorrow to make sure she catches Dragon Pox?"

"Of course, Susan and Hannah are both welcome to come over," Mrs Figg confirmed.

"Thank you, Arabella. My floo at home is a secured line. The calls and transports are not monitored. If you need anything, contact me there." Director Bones turned to the kitchen and called, "Susan, be good. I will see you tonight."

"Bye Auntie," Susan called back from the kitchen.

Harry's ears perked up at Susan's farewell to her Auntie. _Aunt Petunia hates it when I call her anything other than ma'am. Why does Susan's Aunt like her? She must not be a freak like me. _

The Director did not want any floo calls or transport to the DMLE from Mrs Figg's floo so she called out, "Bones Residence," as she tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fire. The flames burned an eerie green as the hearth expanded to allow passage.

Once Director Bones was gone, Mrs Figg turned to Harry. They watched each other awkwardly from across the room. Arabella was the first to close the gap. She walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. Snowy leaped to the back of the couch to make room.

Harry rolled his arms up in the bottom of his nightshirt nervously. He managed to wind it around his arms and all the way up to his knees before Arabella stopped his nervous motions. Gently, she extracted Harry's arms and straightened his clothes.

He intently watched her as she pulled out his arms and straightened his nightshirt. Even now, after the terrible accusation and the awful things he had said, Mrs Figg was still being kind to him. An overwhelming sense of guilt struck him. His eyelashes glistened with tears.

"I'm sorry Mrs Figg," he apologized tearfully.

She pulled the handkerchief from his sleeve then tipped his head and wiped away his tears.

"I should have told you from the beginning what I was doing. Do you understand what Director Bones said to you?"

"Sorta," Harry replied hesitantly.

"Dr Henderson is going to report that you have been abused and mistreated by your relatives. Vernon should **never **take a belt to you. Nor should he **ever **hit you hard enough to leave a bruise. You are clearly not getting enough to eat and the clothes you were wearing are completely unacceptable. The Dursleys are your relatives and the care you have received from them has been terrible. Madam Longbottom and I have taken some actions that will see to it that you will never have to go back to them again. Ooof..."

Harry had launched himself at Arabella and now had both arms wrapped around her tightly. He was hugging her for all he was worth. The emotional boy quickly tired a moment later and settled down to sit in her lap, leaning back against her.

Arabella put her arms around Harry, holding him close. Her hands were lightly clasped and resting in Harry's lap. He snuggled closer and put a hand on hers.

"Can I stay with you please?" Harry asked quickly before his courage failed him.

She hugged him and then kissed the top of his head.

"No one can take you away," Arabella replied confidently.

A feeling of warmth spread through Harry's chest at the tender touch and comforting words. He smiled and squeezed Mrs Figg's hand in return.

Arabella started to hum a soothing little tune to Harry. After a minute he yawned.

"Harry?" Arabella called softly.

"Hmmm?" Harry hummed contentedly.

"You said that you told me that the Dursleys were mean to you. When did you tell me that?"

Harry was quiet for a long time. Arabella thought he might have fallen asleep but he eventually slurred an answer.

"Last year before the hols. Unc'l Vernon busted my lip and black'd my eye cause m' grades were better'n Dudley's. You asked how I got hurt."

"I'm sorry that I didn't do anything, Harry. I know it is hard to believe but I don't remember you telling me," Arabella said regretfully.

"S'okay. The teacher 'n princ'pal didn't r'member either after the old chap with the long…" Harry stopped to give a big yawn then continued, "…white beard came. I was scared..."

Arabella made a mental note of the time period that Albus had likely altered her memory. She waited for the sleepy boy to finish. Arabella would have left him alone except he had been so closed off about everything until now. She knew Harry's trust was growing rapidly but she suspected that Harry also had a loose tongue when he was tired.

With a gentle nudge she asked, "what were you scared about, Harry?"

"They'd put me away n' forget 'bout me," Harry said as his head dropped into the crook of Arabella's arm.

"Put you away where?"

"M' cupboard," Harry grumbled. He rolled onto his side towards her and curled up.

"What do you mean, your cupboard?" She questioned. She put a hand on his bottom and pulled him closer so he wouldn't slide off, then crossed a leg to support him on her lap.

"M' cupboard," his groggy voice was starting to sound irritated. "No room like here. Jus' m' cupboard. Pease don lock me in," he begged with a face contorted with worry.

A chill ran down Arabella's spine when she pieced together what Harry was saying. The bastards had made him sleep in a cupboard and locked him in there.

"I promise I won't ever lock you up," she replied and gave him a hug.

His lip curled in a half smile when she hugged him and she felt his body relax even further in her arms. Arabella pulled his glasses off and set them on the back of the couch, then started to scratch his head.

"Thas niz," he sighed before drifting off.

Several minutes later Neville bounced into the room.

"Where's Harry?" Neville stopped when he noticed his friend asleep on Arabella's lap. "Oh. Sorry. Can he play with us later, Bella?" Neville tiptoed closer to look at Harry. He smiled when he saw how Bella cradled Harry in her arms.

"Yes, Neville. Harry just needs to rest a bit," she answered quietly.

"Again?" Neville asked with the tiniest bit of a whinge.

"Harry is sick Neville. He slept most of yesterday," Arabella explained patiently.

Neville's brown eyes looked her over critically. When their eyes met it felt like he was weighing her. After a moment he asked, "Are you keeping Harry?"

She nodded her affirmation to the little Lord Longbottom.

_Frank used to do that. Alice would laugh and say he was judging you when he did it. _

Neville nodded his approval in return then pumped an arm excitedly and whispered, "Yes!"

He spun around and left to go thank his Gran for helping Harry. _I told Harry my Gran would take care of it, _he thought proudly as he bounded off.

When things had quieted down Augusta and Lorraine returned to the parlor. Lorraine crept by Arabella to get a good look at Harry. She reached down and ran her fingers through his thick messy hair. The boy subconsciously tilted his head back into her hand and sighed.

Lorraine smiled at Arabella, happy to see Harry in such good hands.

"He is very fortunate to have you," she said softly.

"Thank you, Lorraine," Arabella answered. Her initial apprehension of having Lorraine come over with Hannah was diminishing. The woman and her daughter were truly nice people. Her offer to help by watching Harry was a gesture of good will and a genuine desire to be of assistance. Arabella also knew that Amelia would not let just anyone take care of Susan.

Being ill and under stress had taken their toll on the boy. Harry had been quick to tire and very emotional all day. After a fifteen minute nap, however, he was in a much better mood. He was groggy another five minutes until fully waking up.

Arabella brushed back Harry's bangs and handed him his glasses. "Your guests are playing in the kitchen. Do you want to go play or stay here with me?"

Harry pushed his glasses onto his face then sat quietly for a moment considering his earlier statement of wishing that everyone would just go away. The girls were nice but awfully giggly. He liked Neville though and felt terrible about calling him a tattletale.

"Go play," he mumbled. He gave Arabella a quick bashful hug then slid off her lap. His bare feet slapped the wood floor as he trotted out of the room.

He stood just inside the kitchen and watched the others play for a moment. Neville and Susan were playing a game of checkers.

"Red token G3 to H4," Neville called out. The piece glowed and moved diagonally to secure the square.

Hannah was the first to see Harry since she wasn't playing. "Hi Harry," she greeted with a bright smile. "Come watch. We can play next," she patted the floor next to her then scooted over to make room for him.

Nobody had ever asked Harry to sit by them before, especially not the girls. The girls were even meaner than the boys. They would usually laugh cruelly and talk snidely about how he looked and smelled. Even worse, they said he had cooties. The boys would just push and shove him around. Only Dudley and his friends would punch or hit him. He lingered cautiously by the wall, waiting to be teased.

"Well come on. Don't you want to play with us?"

"Come on, Harry. You and Hannah can have the next game," Neville called to his friend. Harry meandered over and sat down on his knees next to Hannah.

"Have you ever played wizard's checkers before, Harry?" Hannah asked while curling one of her pigtails in her finger. He shook his head no.

"Well, all you do is move the pieces from one side to the other. When you meet another piece you can jump over it with yours. If you get all the way to the back row on the other side, you get kinged and can move that piece backwards. Got it?"

"Um. Not really," Harry admitted.

"Just watch us. We'll show you," Susan said making her next move. "Black B6 to A5." Her black piece moved to its new position.

Soon it was Harry and Hannah's turn. She took a red and black piece and put her hands behind her back, switching them around, before holding both hands out to Harry.

"Right or left?"

Harry just looked at her bewildered.

"Pick a hand, Harry," Neville encouraged.

"That one," Harry said pointing to Hannah's right hand.

"Good, you got red. That means you get to go first," Susan said.

Harry reached out and moved a red token diagonally into the center of the board.

"No, Harry. Not that like," Hannah laughed and shook her head with mirth. Her blond pigtails waved back and forth wildly.

Harry grinned sheepishly at Hannah when she chastised him for touching the checkerboard piece. He had been laughed at and made fun of at school often enough to know when someone was being truly mean to him. Hannah was not being mean at all. She was just easily amused and happy in general.

Susan and Neville were smiling broadly too. Hannah's laugh was infectious; they couldn't help but smile in return.

"Call the move, Harry," Neville said patiently.

Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his nightshirt as he studied the board for the coordinates.

"Red C3 to D4," he called nervously. Nothing on the board moved. Peels of laughter rang in the kitchen as Hannah fell on her side. Susan giggled at Hannah and gave her a playful smack.

"Girls," Neville said in an exasperated tone as he shook his head. Harry gave a short little laugh at Neville's comment.

The women in the parlor listened to the children play as they continued to talk. They took turns checking on them. Each time they would hand Harry a cup of something to drink, or a sweet that had to be licked and asked him to share it with his friends.

Harry had never had so many treats in his life or anyone to share them with. He thanked the adults with heartfelt sincerity each time they gave him something and his eyes would shine when they asked him to share with his friends.

"He is such a nice boy," Lorraine said returning from the kitchen. "The way he thanked me for the lolly made me feel like I was giving him all the galleons in the world. When I asked him to share it with his friends, I swear his eyes sparkled. You'd think he had never been given a sweet before."

"You're right," Arabella agreed with a sour expression.

"Pardon me," Lorraine apologized thinking she had said something wrong.

"Sorry Lorraine. I was agreeing with you. Harry probably has never been given anything from anyone other than myself. I've watched his cousin snatch candy and toys right out of hands. When they were invited over I had to separate them to make sure Harry would get to finish the biscuits I gave them. He is always alone. I doubt he has any friends," Arabella explained.

"Honestly?" Lorraine asked skeptically. _Neville acts like they are on their way to being best friends. Hannah and Susan have been very receptive to him as well. He is very unassuming and easy to get along with._

"You didn't see Harry's reaction yesterday when we told him Neville was coming over. Harry said that he understood if Neville didn't want to play with him. To be honest, I am not surprised." She held up a hand to her sputtering friend, halting Arabella's response. "The way Harry looked yesterday was shocking. The poor boy was wearing dingy clothes that were far too large for him and he was absolutely filthy. The stench was nearly unbearable. I don't blame the boy, he is only six. Harry's relatives, however have no excuse for his disgraceful appearance. How much effort does it take to keep a boy clean?" Augusta asked disgustedly.

Arabella nodded in agreement and said, "I would never say a anything against Harry, but sadly it's true. It wasn't just his cousin that taunted Harry. His other classmates were just as mean spirited to him. Children can be so cruel."

"Even after seeing the doctor's report, I have hard time believing this. How could anyone treat Harry or any child like that?" Lorraine said passionately, looking from one woman to the other.

Suddenly Arabella stood up and said, "You'll get to see first hand. Petunia's coming." After that she apparated to the front door to wait for the vile woman to arrive.

**oOo**

Petunia was fuming as she dug through Dudley's clothes looking for something ready to be thrown out. _That boy is nothing but trouble. How inconsiderate of him to get sick like that and nearly ruin my bridge party. Now I will have to clean the house myself._

She dug deep into the back of Dudley's closet grabbing an armload of clothes. While rooting around, Petunia had missed the phone ringing. Shortly afterwards, she shut the front door behind her and headed across the street to drop off the castoffs; again she missed the phone ringing.

Once she returned home Petunia sighed with relief. _Thank goodness Arabella was old school. Spare the rod, spoil the child, HA! What a load of rubbish. They would think we were barking mad if I told her the truth. Vernon has the right of it. Beat that magic nonsense out of him. Teach him to respect his betters. _

The phone rang disrupting her rant.

"Hello. This is the Dursley residence," she greeted in her perfect happy homemaker voice.

"Oh, I will be over straight away."

Petunia was furious. She had been ill at ease when Dudley started to come down with the pox. Petunia did not remember having greenish skin, just red pox marks. When Dudley started to sneeze the next morning and sparks came out of his nose she had nearly fainted.

_It is that freak's fault. He has infected my poor Dudley with some unnatural disease. A doctor would take him away for tests, _she worried as she wiped Dudley's forehead with a damp washcloth.

_Arabella was right. If one child has it, the others will too. Oh good lord, what if Harry has the same symptoms. _She looked at Dudley's green skin.

Dudley sniffed in a simpering way at his mom. "I feel hot, Mum. Get me another iced lolly."

"Anything you want, Dudders," she answered, patting his chubby cheek.

_I have to get Harry back before Arabella finds out what a freak he is. That's all we need to tarnish the Dursley name. I'll have to tell Vernon to stay away until everyone is better. I don't want him to catch it too. Albus didn't say anything about catching diseases from their kind. Wait until I give that old goat a good what for!_

Petunia sifted through the container for Dudley's favorite flavor and noted that grape ones were nearly gone. She brought Dudley the frosty treat hoping to appease him before announcing her plan.

"We're going to visit Mrs Figg when you finish that Dudley," she said, handing it to him.

"But, Mum, Phillip Schofield is going to start announcing this afternoon's cartoons on the Beeb," Dudley whinged.

"I can't leave you alone when you aren't feeling well. We will only be there for a minute to bring Harry home," Petunia tried to reason with her son.

"Noooooo! I don't feel good and I don't want him here." Dudley moved straight in to a full-scale tantrum and threw his grape ice lolly across the room. It splattered against the wall in a purple gooey mess. He crossed his arms defiantly.

"But Dudley, this is really important," Petunia tried to plead with the stubborn boy.

"NO!" Dudley screamed in her face.

"I'll get you a new video for your VCR upstairs," Petunia tried to bargain.

Dudley considered the offer. "Keep the freak away from me."

"Thank you, Dudley."

They walked across the street and up the walkway to Arabella's door. The doorbell had scarcely rung when the door opened.

"Petunia what brings..."

The prim, blonde haired woman interrupted, "I'm here to pick up Harry. Dudley is sick as well. I might as well take care of him too."

Arabella was stunned. She looked at Dudley. His rounded girth was pushing against the hooded jumper he was wearing. Dudley had his hands in his pockets and his face was down. With no attempt to cover his mouth Dudley unexpectedly let loose with a mighty, "Blechew!"

Sparks flew and Petunia jumped.

"Dudley has Dragon Pox," Arabella said in surprise.

Petunia looked at Arabella shrewdly. With a critical eye she looked the woman over. "You knew. You're one of them aren't you?" She accused in a shrill voice.

"Petunia why don't you come in," Arabella said in a calm commanding voice. Her years as an Auror surfaced in an instant. Tranquility settled in and she established a relaxed but ready stance.

The door opened wide and Arabella stepped aside to allow her new guests in.

The only reason Petunia entered was because she didn't want to air her dirty laundry where a neighbor might see.

"Where's the boy?" Petunia demanded, looking around for Harry.

"He is in the kitchen with his friends," Arabella replied leading them from the entrance hall to the living room.

Dudley snorted like he had just heard a good joke. "Yeah right," he said sarcastically.

"Dudley, why don't you go see Harry while I talk to your mum," Arabella suggested lightly.

"I don't have anything to say to you. Harry! Come on, we're leaving," Petunia shouted.

"_Silencio," _Arabella spoke the incantation and suddenly pointed her wand at Petunia. "Now you are going to listen to me. Then I might allow you to talk. Dudley can either go to the kitchen with Harry or he can stay here and listen to every word I have to say to you."

Petunia's mouth worked wordlessly. She put a hand to her throat with a look of horror on her face.

"I think she is trying to tell you to go to the kitchen, Dudley," Arabella interpreted for Petunia. "Run along, Dudley, I have much to say."

Dudley turned and hurried right past Augusta and Lorraine, giving them a wide birth, as they walked into the living room. He cast one worried glance over his shoulder as he retreated to the kitchen.

**oOo**

"I have been looking forward to this. I don't think I want to wait for Arabella to give me a piece of what is left," Augusta said coldly to Lorraine and went to join Arabella at the door.

The vehemence in the normally elegant woman's voice startled Lorraine. She had learned in the short afternoon that the women were very close, despite not seeming to agree on much. Their opinions differed often and they argued heatedly. Yet, the sharp words they exchanged didn't bother each other in the least. It was like two sides to a coin. But sometimes with a coin toss, no matter what side turns up, you lose. Petunia was about to find that out.

_Sweet Merlin. I'm going to have to be the rational one here. I still remember Edgar Bones saying he would never want to be the one Arabella pointed her wand at, and the Longbottoms are ancient. There are family grimoires with spells too old to be classified as light or dark, _Lorraine thought as she followed worriedly in Augusta's wake.

The four children were playing happily in a circle on the floor. Susan had brought her jacks and they were taking turns. Hannah and Susan were by far the best but they all had a good laugh when Harry and Neville took a turn.

"Harry! Come on, we're leaving," Petunia shouted from the other room.

Harry almost cried when Petunia called for him. He folded in upon himself, wrapped his arms around himself and started to rock worriedly.

"No, please no," Harry whimpered.

Augusta and Lorraine entered the kitchen from the parlor. Augusta had a stern, cool expression as she strode through the room with Lorraine in tow. Seeing Harry's frightened posture, Lorraine stopped and gave the little boy a hug.

He gave a startled twitch at her touch and stiffened in her arms when she hugged him. Lorraine stroked his hair reassuringly. "Stay right here, Harry. Don't you worry. You aren't going anywhere."

He drew in a long quivering breath then relaxed a little.

"Are you OK now?" Lorraine asked with concern, prepared to stay if she was needed.

The little black head bobbed.

"Here. I don't think you have tried one of these yet," Lorraine said, handing him a lolly before standing up.

All of you stay here," she reminded the children, then hurried off to catch up with Augusta.

"Don't worry, Harry. Gran will set her right. Just you wait and see," Neville comforted his friend, patting him on the back.

"That's a frostypop, Harry. It makes your…" Hannah started to say.

"Let him try it and see what happens, Hannah. Go on, Harry," Susan encouraged him.

They had all seen the look of terror on their friend's face and were making a group effort to keep Harry distracted. Harry unwrapped the frosty blue sucker and felt his fingers tingle like he was packing a snowball without any mittens on.

"It's cold," he said with wonder then stuck it in his mouth.

Harry's nose and toes felt cold. The taste reminded him of the really cold day he walked home from school and Mrs Figg invited him in for hot cocoa.

"It tastes like hot chocolate and marshmallows!" he said excitedly.

His eyes went round when he noticed that he could see his breathe just like on a really cold day. Hannah laughed delightedly at the amazed expression on Harry's face.

"Can I try it next, Harry? I really like them," Susan asked.

Dudley lurked by the door watching Harry and the supposed friends. He did not understand how Mrs Figg made his Mum lose her voice or how Harry's breath hung frigidly in the air like that but he was mad. Dudley did not want to be here nor did he want Harry at **his** home. Frustrated, Dudley decided to take it out on his usual victim.

"Dudley," Harry gasped at seeing his cousin standing there. He started feeling smaller by the second. _Please leave me alone. They like me. Please Dudley please, _Harry begged in his mind.

Just in case his pleas were unanswered Harry braced himself for flight. He had learned to never hit Dudley back. Uncle Vernon took the belt to Harry, if he tried to defend himself against Dudley. So he prepared for the only thing he could do - run. Being made fun of for running away was much better than being whipped by his uncle. Unfortunately, Harry's usual defense of fleeing would lead to Dudley's favorite game, Harry Hunting.

The portly bully stalked around the ring of children towards Harry.

"Let's have it, Potty boy," Dudley sneered, using one of Harry's school nicknames. It referred to one of the many times Harry had had an accident at school since he couldn't unbuckle his belt.

"N...n.n.n no!" Harry stammered. Harry clutched the sweet protectively to his chest.

Dudley slowed momentarily in surprise when Harry refused. His eyes narrowed maliciously. "No?" Dudley asked in a low menacing tone as he closed in on his much smaller cousin.

Harry tilted his head back as Dudley loomed in. He shook his head no fearfully. His hand tightened on the lolly's stick. "It's mine," Harry croaked.

In a sudden burst of violence Dudley slapped Harry, sending his glasses spinning across the floor. The smack of Dudley's hand on Harry's face echoed in the kitchen. The other three children sat frozen, stunned by the bigger boy's behavior. Being home-schooled limited their exposure to bullies; they just didn't know what to do.

Harry swayed with the blow and Dudley grabbed the item of contention. There was a brief struggle before the lolly was wrenched away from Harry.

"Now it's mine, little Piss Potter," Dudley leered at Harry. He gave Harry a good kick in the side for his defiance.

Harry bit his lip to stifle the cry from the blow. Experience had taught him that Dudley would get bored and leave him alone eventually. So he trembled below his cousin's towering figure. He turned his head in shame: afraid the others would be jeering Dudley along just like at school.

"Give it back to him. That's Harry's," Susan piped up, defending the trembling boy. She couldn't help but notice that Harry was the smallest in the room and it made her angry to see him treated like that.

"Ohhh, it's Harry's. I'm sorry. Here ya go freak," Dudley said sticking the sucker in Harry's hair. He pressed it in hard to make sure it stuck.

Harry tried to bat Dudley's hand away and keep it out of his hair, but Dudley leaned down on him in response and rubbed it in harder. Once it was good and stuck Dudley gave Harry's head a good shove making him wobble to one side.

Once he righted himself, Harry pulled on the sweet for just a second before he realized he couldn't get it out without chunks of his hair coming with it. He tucked his knees under his chin and hugged his arms around them, frustrated with feeling so helpless. He closed his eyes against the building tears.

_Why won't he just leave me alone? Every time someone talks to me or might even like me he does this. Now they won't like me anymore. It's not fair! _Harry thought with despair.

"Gonna cry baby? Gonna cry like a little girl? You sure look like one in your pretty little dress," Dudley taunted as he circled around Harry before shoving him.

"That's a nightshirt not a dress. Boys wear them," Hannah said in a belittling tone of voice.

"Maybe Harry's a girl. He fights like one. He cries like one too!" Dudley spat back.

Harry drew a bubbly breath and trembled as he exhaled from his mouth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

"Any more nightmares, Harry?" Dudley asked cruelly.

Harry stilled and held his breath when his cousin mentioned his reoccurring nightmare.

"Dream about any more dead people, freak? Oh boo hoo. The red haired lady got killed. Shot by a pretty green light. Gonna beat on the door and cry to be let out you big baby." Dudley mockingly wrung his eyes behind Harry's back.

**oOo**

Harry bounced in his mum's arms as she ran upstairs. Her auburn smelled of lilacs after a spring rain. The locks of soft red hair was twined between his little fingers and in his mouth. Below them his Da stood watching her run up the spiral staircase. He smiled and waved to them. "I love you," he called.

A boom thundered through the hall and debris sprayed his father. His wand weaved through the air and a shimmering field of energy shielded him from the splintered wood. "Run Lily, run!"

Flashes of light shot back and forth below as his mum whisked them away. Sensing the danger Harry began to cry. They ran into his bedroom and Harry was deposited in his crib. He stood up and stretched his arms out. "Mum Mum Mum Mum."

Lily shut the door and threw up a ward activating the charm of concealment to buy the precious minutes she needed. She grabbed the crib and aligned it in the center of the pentagram engraved in the nursery floor. Hastily, she pulled the ceremonial dagger and vial from the dresser.

She stood nervously in the room with the dagger and vial her hands, waiting agitatedly. Ignoring the crying toddler, she focused on the sounds of battle below. After a few minutes it came to a stop. A breeze flitted through the room, caressing Lily's hair. A tear ran down her peach colored cheek and she whispered, "James."

The pentagram began to glow around them and Lily uncorked the vial. She turned the vial over, letting the blood poor upon the floor. "**Your blood**," Lily intoned, then cast the vial aside.

A swift down stroke of the dagger across the palm of her hand spilled her blood upon the floor. "**My blood**," she spoke the word of power.

She knelt and smeared her hand in the blood from the vial. "**OUR BLOOD."**

The blood splatters beaded and rolled to the five points of the blazing pentagram. She turned and drew a jagged line of blood on Harry's forehead. "For you, our love. Quiet now little one. Everything will be alright," she soothed, running her hand through his hair as the pentagram cooled and blended into the flooring.

Behind them the door began to glow red and vibrate in the frame. With grim determination Lily faced the door. "Come on then, you bastard. Come and get some."

The door crashed open, tearing off its top hinge. A man in black stood at the threshold. His aura crackled around him. "Stand aside woman and I will let you live. Another has laid claim to your life and promised his servitude in exchange," he said, peering at the child staring back at him with the green eyes of his mother.

"Fuck you," Lily growled in defiance. She backed to the crib putting herself between the Dark Lord and her son. Her hands gripped the crib rails. Harry's little hands patted hers as he cried for his mum.

"Foul mouthed mud blood. You had your chance," the man countered, slinging his own insult. He raised his wand menacingly and pointed it at the pretty red haired woman. "Ava..."

**oOo**

"Abracadabra!" Dudley shouted in Harry's ear scaring him out of his daymare.

Harry jerked to attention. A warm flow released across his thighs and ran down his legs onto the floor. The perimeter of water around Harry grew.

"What the?" Dudley cried out, looking at the puddle he was standing in. His trainers squeaked as he jumped back out of the urine.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! Harry pissed himself!" Dudley cawed. His hand wavered with hilarity as he pointed at his cousin.

Absolute horror consumed Harry. In a moment of disbelief he dropped his hands to his sides, splashing the puddle surrounding him. His face burned in shame. A red hue blossomed from the tip of his nose to the top of his ears. Not wanting to hear the taunts and cruel words that were sure to follow he jumped to his feet. Although, he slipped and fell to his knees in his haste to flee. He quickly clambered to his feet again and bolted from the room.

Hannah and Susan were on their feet in an instant, glaring at Dudley with identical grimaces of anger.

"That's it!" Neville yelled and launched himself from the floor. He slammed into Dudley sending them both reeling recklessly around the kitchen. Neville slid an arm around Dudleys neck putting the bully in a headlock.

With an angry roar Dudley pushed them towards Hannah, knocking her down. He continued the headlong charge into the kitchen cabinets. Neville's back slammed into the counter and Dudley bounced his head off the door painfully.

Hannah and Susan squealed when the boys crashed to the floor. They rolled around in a knot of arms and legs, trying to get on top of each other. Dudley was running out of steam fast. He wasn't used to any resistance or fighting his own battles.

Neville struggled his way to the top and straddled Dudley who started to buck like a wild bronco. Dudley nearly threw Neville off. To keep himself upright, Neville's right hand slapped down on the floor next to Dudley's head.

Dudley seized his moment and grabbed a fist full of Neville's hair. Neville yelped when Dudley pulled his hair then he became enraged. Grimacing in pain Neville curled his left hand into a fist and punched Dudley in the face twice. With Dudley's head resting on the ground each blow was a solid hit and was accompanied by a thud against the wood floor. The first blow bloodied Dudley's nose and blackened his eye. The second hit knocked two teeth out.

**oOo**

Arabella stood facing Petunia. She didn't bother to ask the other woman to sit down; they wouldn't be staying long. Her chest swelled with a deep breath in an effort to maintain control. She was trying to be calm but the desire to take her pound of flesh was seductively whispering to Arabella.

Thoughts of how the system... no, Arabella herself, had failed Harry plagued her. Child services in the wizarding world was a one person department. Coordinating an adoption or placing an orphan was the core responsibility of the job. There were very few reported incidents of abuse. Magical children were usually home schooled until they attended Hogwarts. A child being reprimanded in public was accepted in their society. With glamours and no public schools an abusive home was easily concealed. In fact, Madam Pomfrey was often the first to find a child that had been abused. By that time few children would admit what happened. They were terrified of being pulled out of Hogwarts and being returned to their home, if they said anything. Very little could be done about it. Children were viewed as property in the eyes of the Ministry. Muggle born students were more fortunate. Teachers were trained to look for signs of abuse and were required to report it. There were not as many abused muggle born students.

Arabella was scathing mad that she, a talented senior Auror, had failed Harry so miserably. After another deep breath she said, "No, Petunia, Harry will never be returned to you. I have consulted a metaphysician. Harry's abuse has been thoroughly documented and reported."

Petunia glared at Arabella. She crossed her arms, standing her ground and making no attempt to speak. _I will not be your play thing Figg. We will see what happens. It's not like Harry hasn't told anyone before. _

Seeing that Petunia had calmed down, Arabella canceled the silencing charm.

"You may speak now," she said.

"You cannot simply take Harry. Nothing has been proven. You are a kidnapper. Return Harry to me now and I will not press charges," Petunia answered.

Augusta entered the room hearing the horse-faced woman's reply.

"Muggle law is not Wizard law. The Ministry has ways of finding the truth. You have more to fear from what will be found if the authorities are contacted than Mrs Figg does," Augusta answered, coming to stand at Arabella's side.

Petunia arched an eyebrow. "Shall we see what happens? No matter who is contacted Harry will be returned to me or taken away. You have no claim to him. There are homes for orphans. Let them take him away. I don't care, but you do," Petunia said triumphantly knowing she was right.

Sparks flew from the tip of Arabella's wand. "There are other choices," she threatened.

"Ha. Even I know that your kind are not supposed to use magic against us," Petunia bluffed hoping that nothing would happen. A variety of thoughts surfaced; Albus erasing the teachers' memories, her parents dying at Lily's wedding and the Potters being slain.

Augusta grinned wickedly reading Petunia's thoughts.

"What you say might be true but only if it is discovered. How long have you and that coward of a husband been abusing Harry without anyone's knowledge, one year or two? I could steal your memory of our visit. You could wake up tomorrow and not even know your own name. There are many ways to settle this, Mrs Dursley. Be gone with your foul spawn and be glad I let you... leave."

The three women were locked in their battle and too preoccupied to hear the commotion in the kitchen. Lorraine looked back and forth, torn with indecision. The two witches seemed to be restraining themselves but Petunia would not budge. Keeping an eye on the situation with her wand in hand she was prepared to stop Arabella or Augusta from doing something they would regret later. Lorraine cautiously backed into the kitchen.

"Neville! Stop that. Get off him right now," Lorraine commanded now that she saw what was going on. _This is what I expected from the ladies in the other room. Now I'm playing safety patrol in the kitchen. _

Neville hesitated when he heard the scolding voice and Dudley punched him. Neville pulled back his fist again.

"I said NOW!" Lorraine emphasized her directive with a stinging hex to Neville's behind.

Neville jumped with a little cry of surprise and rolled off Dudley. Who gave a parting kick to Neville's back.

Lorraine did not miss the two cowardly shots to Neville and regretted stinging him. "That's enough out of you too," she warned the other boy.

Lorraine quickly looked Dudley over. The amount of blood on his face had her a little concerned but not much sympathy since the prat had continued to hit and kick at Neville.

"What has gotten into you?" She questioned Neville with a soft but firm voice. Her hand rubbed Neville's shoulder conveying that she was more concerned than mad. All three children were on Lorraine in that instant. Their mouths were running non-stop trying to tell everything that had happened.

"Stop! Take a break all of you," she said irritably then waved her wand sending three chairs to opposite corners one after another. "Now sit until I come for you. No talking, calm down and think of what you have to say when I come back. Not you. I'm cleaning you up then you're going home," she said taking Dudley by the arm and leading him to the kitchen sink.

Dudley was wide eyed at the display of magic. He leaned away fearfully from the wand brandishing woman.

Neville was quick to comply, after the stinging hex, but Hannah and Susan were a bit more reluctant. Lorraine stood taller and gave them the 'look' to speed them along.

At the sink, Lorraine gently wiped away the blood from the sniffling boy's face. She was surprised when she found pox marks lining his jaw. Lorraine pulled his sleeve up, exposing his arm and saw more crusted over red blemishes. _He's a wizard!_

Lorraine packed several ice cubes into a towel. She surveyed the damage once again shaking her head. Dudley had clearly been on the receiving end of the fight. He had a shiner, bloody nose and lost two teeth. Neville had thoroughly worked him over. "Hold this to your eye," she instructed Dudley.

The argument had concluded by the time that Lorraine guided Dudley back into the living room.

"Dudders! What did they do to you?" Petunia asked, glaring accusingly at the three witches.

"I don't know. What I do know is that there are three children waiting to tell me what happened and all of them said one thing in common, Dudley." Lorraine said heatedly and looked Petunia in the eye.

"They're just ganging up on my poor boy. It's YOUR kind against us," Petunia retorted.

To everyone's surprise Lorraine laughed boisterously. "Oh, are you really that naive? They were in the kitchen less than five minutes. It will be interesting to hear how he managed to anger all three of them."

"Harry must have told more lies about my boy. Wicked evil lies!"

"He wasn't in the room, just three children who had never set eyes on Dudley before he walked into the kitchen." Lorraine's eyes shined when she dropped the bomb. "Dudley is a wizard too or he would have never come down with Dragon Pox. His pox marks are crusted over and beginning to dry out. I would guess that he gave it to Harry."

"Lies! It's all lies. My son would _never _be one of your lot! Come on Dudley," Petunia grabbed Dudley's hand and headed for the front door. The door slammed behind them on the way out and the three witches laughed.

"Arabella, I think you need to go see the Prewitts. It would be best if your child advocacy papers were approved today. Amelia said she just needs the documents. I am going to analyze your wards to see if I can add a 'Notice Me Not' charm to keep Muggles away," Augusta started ordering.

"I can take care of that myself, Augusta," Arabella contested.

"Wards have never been your forte dear. Besides, only you can fill out the forms with the lawyers," Augusta replied haughtily.

"Keep arguing and none of it will get done," Lorraine chimed in. "I'll take care of the children while you secure the fortress and you go secure Harry's custody." With that Lorraine turned on her heel to go find Harry.

Arabella and Augusta smiled as they watched Lorraine leave.

"The woman does have a backbone when her knickers get in a twist. I think she will fit in nicely," Arabella said.

"Quite nicely, the girls are very well behaved too. We should accept her offer to watch the children. We will probably need to leave frequently until this is settled, " Augusta answered amiably.

"Thank you for helping, Augusta. I don't think I could do this alone," Arabella said sincerely.

"Don't thank me until we are finished. There is much left to do," Augusta replied.

"You fully briefed the Prewitts?"

"Yes. They may need to be updated with this afternoon's event. Ask their advice for dealing with the Ministry. Amelia may be on our side but she is only one voice. Check to see if the lawsuit against Gringotts is ready. When Master Orelink obtains the list of attendees for the Potter Family Will the lawsuit needs to be filed."

Augusta went outside to find the ward foundations and the residual power source. Magical real estate was at a premium. The oldest families held the best properties. The manors were built on magical reservoirs. The reservoirs fueled the wards. The oldest families had the best protection. A few estates had wards nearly as powerful as Hogwarts. Arabella's home was in a muggle neighborhood and had only been occupied the last four years.

She pressed against the ward with a mild hex, testing the strength. _The wards might keep a fifth year Hogwarts student out but any fully trained wizard could apparate in if they knew the location. The floo isn't much better. I will have to express the importance of relocating to Longbottom Manor soon. On the bright side it won't take long to add a 'Notice Me Not' charm._

Looking up to the house she noticed all four Kneazles watching her from a window. She also noticed a concealed but potent source of power beneath the home itself. _Oh, clever girl. The wards are attuned to your familiars as an early warning system. You've been conserving the energy. With your field experience, maintaining a strong offense is playing to your strength. Anyone looking for a fight is in for a big surprise. _

Lorraine noted that the children were where she had left them. They all turned to look at her when she walked in. "Where's Harry?" she asked them.

From the children's myriad of responses Lorraine filtered out that Harry had run into the parlor. "Thank you. Now back to your corners," she said, motioning with her hands. There were some groans of discontent at the order.

She found Harry huddled in a corner with his knees curled up against his chest. His wet nightshirt clung to Harry's skinny little body.

"Harry dear, are you all right?" Lorraine called gently as she approached.

Harry hesitantly lifted his face to squint at her. His little face defined misery. Clips of excited twittering from the children of 'Dudley did this' and 'Dudley did that' ran through her mind. _That horrible little boy! _

"Oh Harry. You poor boy. Here, let me help you," Lorraine said, lifting him to his feet.

Harry awkwardly peeled the nightgown from his legs and sniffled his nose. He barely choked out, "I'm wet," in a blubbering voice.

"It's alright, you just had a little accident. We'll get you cleaned up," she said taking Harry by his hand and leading him to the bathroom.

His little hand shook in hers all the way to the bathroom as he cried shamefully.

"Shhhh. It's OK," Lorraine soothed wadding up the soiled nightshirt to his armpits before pulling it over his head in an attempt to keep it out of his face

She kept a comforting hand on his shoulder while she turned on the shower and waited for it to reach a luke-warm temperature. "Come on, in you go," Lorraine called in a friendly voice.

Armed with a bar of soap and a washcloth Lorraine set about cleaning Harry up. The water loosened the sticky treat and she was able to remove it with only a few lost hairs. She smirked at the gray lines running around his torso, remembering Arabella's offer to show her a pensieve of Harry's game of connect the dots. When she turned him to clean his backside, she stopped cold. _Those ruddy bastards. How could they? He's just a little boy_.

Arabella walked into the kitchen and smiled when she saw Hannah, Neville and Susan each sitting quietly in a corner. The curious children craned in their seats to watch her but didn't move or say anything. Noticing a slightly yellow puddle in the middle of the floor, she gazed around the room. Her keen eyes spied Harry's lenses beneath the kitchen table. After a quick cleaning charm, she crouched down and picked up Harry's glasses.

_Where's Harry? _Arabella mentally questioned her familiars. A link from Snowy opened giving a brief glimpse of Harry being washed by Lorraine in the shower.

Lorraine was helping Harry out of the shower when Arabella arrived. She picked up the wet nightshirt and smelled it. A faint odor of urine confirmed her suspicion.

The younger woman was startled to find Arabella within arms length of her holding Harry's dirty clothes. She patted her heart and gave a happy laugh. "I didn't even hear you. I think you may have scared one of my lives out of me," she joked.

"Sorry about that," Arabella replied with a wry grin which didn't look sorry at all. She pulled a towel from the rack and helpfully handed it to Lorraine. She was pleased to see that Lorraine patted Harry dry instead of rubbing him and aggravating his pox marks.

"Here is the anti itching salve and a clean nightshirt," Arabella said, laying out the items to be used.

Harry edged around Lorraine as she applied the salve to him. A nervous hand snuck its way into Arabella's. He waited patiently to be taken care of but turned to Arabella to be dressed. Once a fresh nightshirt was donned, Harry held his arms out to Arabella wanting to be held.

Arabella picked him up and gave him a hug. He rested his head on her shoulder in response and his hand drifted up to its usual place to tug on her collar.

"I'll just tidy up in here. Why don't you go sit down with Harry for a little bit, before you go," Lorraine suggested.

They went to the parlor and Arabella sat down in a rocker with Harry. She hummed a little tune to Harry as they rocked.

"Nobody will like me anymore," Harry mumbled sadly into Arabella's shoulder.

"What?" She asked not understanding what he had said.

With a loud sniff Harry repeated himself. "Nobody will like me anymore."

"I still like you," she replied and kissed his forehead reassuringly.

"No, not you," Harry said exasperatedly.

"Neville and the girls?" Arabella asked trying not to be to hurt by his callous dismissal.

_Why is he worried about that? Not only does Neville enjoy playing with Harry, he has shown an interest in his well being. I am assuming Neville fought with Dudley in Harry's defense. Hannah and Susan are sweet little girls. They seem to like him too. _

"Yeah," Harry said in a little voice. He started to anxiously run his hands down his silky nightshirt repeatedly.

"Why wouldn't they like you? The four of you were happy playing together this afternoon?" Arabella asked with concern.

"Jus' cause," he said in a shallow attempt to avoid answering truthfully.

She held up Harry's chin and looked him in the eye. "That is not a good answer. Why would you think that they won't like you anymore?"

His green eyes glittered apprehensively at her. "Dudley. Nobody plays with me because of Dudley. He's mean to me and beats up anyone who talks to me."

"Dudley will probably never see them (_or you_, she thought to herself) again. Nor will you return to your former school. I will see to your education in another manner. Everyone seems to like you Harry. I don't think you have anything to worry about. If they don't like you for who you are, then they are not very good friends."

Harry shook his chin free and turned away from Mrs Figg's probing eyes. "They'll laugh at me now," Harry said pitifully. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how they would laugh at him after wetting himself. They even knew some of the names he was called at school.

Arabella studied Harry. His head hung dejectedly and his breathing had become jagged. She could see his lip quivering. He was on the verge of crying again. "Why would they laugh at you, Harry? What did Dudley do?"

Harry loathed himself for it. The humiliation of doing that in front of everyone. "Dudley scared me and I pissed m'self," Harry sobbed.

"Shhhh, you're fine. Nobody will laugh. I think your friends will surprise you by how understanding they can be," she counseled the embarrassed boy.

"Ya think so?" Harry yawned his question.

"I know so," she assured him then started to hum to him again. After a few minutes she felt him relax in her arms and knew he would be asleep soon. _Petunia and Dudley's visit really stressed him out. He's getting fussy again, a nap will do him good. _

"Lorraine," Arabella whispered as she stood up with Harry.

"Yes," Lorraine answered coming over.

"I need to go. Will you take him? He prefers to be held when he's upset," she offered as a quick explanation as to why she didn't simply put Harry to bed.

Lorraine smiled happily and took Harry. She had wanted to hold him all afternoon anyway. Harry grumbled incoherently in protest at being relocated.

"Scratch his head and he'll settle down," Arabella suggested.

Lorraine took the suggestion and to her delight Harry hummed his appreciation. "I'll find out what happened. I have a pretty good idea but I told the kids to think about what they wanted to say as part of their time out. We can talk about it when you get back."

The floo bathed the room in an emerald hue and enlarged to transport Mrs Figg to Diagon Alley.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was reading an owl from Ragnok in his office when the floo flared to life. He swiveled in his chair to see Petunia Dursley's head glaring at him from his fire. _This does not bode well. She only floos me under dire circumstances._

"Albus, you didn't tell me Mrs Figg was one of your kind," the woman immediately shrieked. Is she some sort of spy for you? Well, I've got news for you. She has Harry and won't give him back. I would've just taken him but she had some friends who threatened me. What are you going to do about it?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Mrs Figg has taken Harry and someone has placed an inquiry regarding the reading of the Potters' Will._

"That is interesting, Petunia. Is there a reason why Mrs Figg would take Harry?" The aged headmaster asked with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

Petunia answered in a tremulous voice, "Harry has Dragon Pox and has given it to Dudley. One of those women said Dudley is a... a wizard."

"Stand back, I'm coming through." Albus commanded.

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Thank you for reading the chapter. Please take a minute to leave a review. All comments are welcome.

**A/N: **There is a scene inspired by a great movie. Can anyone name it?


	7. Time to Go

**Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.**

**Warning:**** This story is rated as T for a reason. The chapter contains some violence and mild language. **

**Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me. **

**A/N: Chapter 6 contained a reference to a great movie, Practical Magic. I posted my thoughts about how magic works and some ideas about the Wizarding World on my profile page. **

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**Chapter 7: Time to go**

Dave swaggered through the Ministry of Magic, pleased with the message he was bearing. He was certain there would be an appreciable reward. Despite his humble beginning as the administrative assistant to Dolores Umbridge, the head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, Dave had rapidly risen in position. The diligence of following Dolores into her office every morning before the door could shut behind her had paid off. He had become a glorified gofer for various department heads. They were equally impressed with his shameless talent of kissing arse. However, Dave's career didn't really take off until he had been asked to deliver a message to a lowly employee in the department of Dangerous Creatures.

**oOo**

_His normal strut when delivering 'important' messages diminished when he traveled down the poorly lit corridor. An eerie squeak echoed in the hall and a grinding buzz interrupted the squealing as he traveled to the lone office at the end of the hall. He stood outside the door, peering at the nameplate of Walden Macnair. Gravely, Dave lifted his hand and rapped with a limp wrist on the door._

_Several minutes passed as Dave stood outside the door, uncomfortably listening to the squeak and grind within the room. He raised his hand and knocked more firmly, afraid of sounding rude. Another minute passed and he tried again nearly beating on the door. Within seconds a thud greeted him as splintered wood sprayed into his face._

_After brushing the debris from his eyes Dave stared at the gleaming metal that pierced the door inches from his face. The squeak slowly came to a stop. In a weak voice Dave called out, "hello?"_

_The door slowly swung open in response. In a surreal movement Dave lifted his hand to catch the handle of the axe embedded in the solid oak door. He clenched his abdominal muscles to keep from wetting himself. __**A little more force and the axe would have split my skull**__, __Dave thought with a sick feeling settling in his stomach__._

_"Come in, Mr Gaidley," a deep voice rumbled from behind a giant stone wheel._

_Gathering his courage, Dave strode into the room with the manila envelope held importantly before him. "Here are your orders," he said boldly._

_Macnair stood and turned his back to Dave, ignoring him. He considered the archaic weapons hanging on the wall before him. His fingers danced lightly across the hilts, caressing each one before touching the next._

_"Your orders... sir," Dave said a bit more meekly._

_"Enchanting, aren't they?" Macnair asked off-handedly, not caring if the office gofer replied or not. A backhanded gesture with his wand closed the door behind Dave and the stone wheel started to squeakily spin._

_Dave gave a startled jump before cautiously walking further into the room, carefully placing a work table between them. His hand trembled under the growing weight of the envelope, which represented his shield of authority. "Yes sir," Dave replied with a nervous crack in his voice, hoping the noisy grindstone drowned him out._

_"Everybody has a place in the world. To those who listen, something will call to their soul. Have you found your place, Mr Gaidley?" Macnair asked removing a pole axe from the wall, a gentle push a second later sent it drifting over to the stone wheel._

_After the bob of his adam's apple, Dave answered, "no sir."_

_"Sometimes it takes a little help. I can help you find your place," Mcnair generously offered in a deep timbre. His hand settled on the hilt of a stiletto. He closed his eyes in bliss and gracefully drew the blade._

_Dave's hand dropped to the table releasing the envelope to slide over to Mcnair. "Sir?"_

_"You have ingratiated yourself to those above you. In return you have been allowed to run errands. Do you tire of fetching the Daily Prophet and serving tea?" Mcnair turned on his heel and walked around to the other side of the table._

_"I hardly think that you are in a place to judge me," Dave said getting his nerve back._

_Suddenly, Mcnair impaled the stiletto in the table. The shining blade quivered from the violent motion. Dave jumped away from the man but not fast enough. Mcnair's long sinewy arm snatched Dave by the wrist and pulled him back to the table. Dave jerked frantically trying to escape but the strength of the other man relentlessly reeled him in. With a wave of his wand Mcnair cast a sticking charm on the table and he planted Dave's hand. A second motion caused the pole axe to press its head against the stone wheel._

_"Mcnair! What the hell?" Dave cried out. The man's screams of panic were drowned out by the noise of metal grinding against stone._

_With an impassive look Mcnair wrenched the stiletto free from the flesh of the table. "You could have much more. Knowing important people can be quite valuable. You have been in the office of every Ministry Head, frequently. Certain acquaintances would like to know what is discussed in their offices. My associates reciprocate in kind and your help would be __**greatly **__appreciated," Mcnair said, leaning in close to Dave and raising his voice to be heard._

_Dave's face reddened with outrage. __**As if I can be bought**__. _

_The stiletto arched down biting into the table between Dave's thumb and first finger._

_"Oh sweet Merlin," Dave screamed frantically pulling at his hand to free himself. The heavy wooden table jumped in response to Dave's desperate bid for freedom._

_"It is a gracious offer," Mcnair said pulling his dagger and plunging it between Dave's index finger and middle finger._

_"Mcnair, please," Dave started to beg. His knees shook with weakness, threatening to collapse beneath him. Fear opened every pore in his body and Dave began to sweat profusely._

_"Yes most gracious, don't you agree?" The stiletto came out and slammed down between the middle and ring finger._

_"Yes!"_

_Mcnair pulled the shinning, six-inch blade out and smiled. "Yes?"_

_"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Dave shrieked as the stiletto came down again between the ring and little finger._

_"They said you were a reasonable and ambitious man. With a little help you will find your place," Mcnair said leaning in to stare Dave in the eye. His hand snaked out and waved his wand, canceling the sticking charm._

_Dave yanked his hand away from the table, stumbling backwards in his zeal._

_"Bring me interesting news and you will be rewarded." Mcnair picked up the envelope, slit it open and slid out his assignment. A black and white picture of Dave slipped out._

_Dave cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at the picture of himself on the table and backed away from Mcnair. The gofer's imperious attitude was gone. A disheveled man with pitted out robes stood in the cocky office arse licker's place._

_"It is a wonderful thing when you find your place in the world," Mcnair said with a terrible smile upon his face as he stabbed the picture of Dave with the knife._

_Shoving his weight against the door, Dave spilled out into the hall when it opened. He raced down the hall with Mcnair's haunting laugh chasing him back to his desk._

_Unexpectedly, Dave was promoted to a position that was the equivalent of a manager the next day. There were few job expectations other than to attend many meetings with the heads of other departments. His former co-workers talked snidely behind his back, whispering 'arse licker', 'brown noser' and other similar unflattering names. Dave continued to personally deliver Walden Mcnair his orders._

_Months later Dave was in Mcnair's office hefting a sack of gold. He carefully concealed his benefactor's 'appreciation' in his robes and left. Dave had been right, Mcnair was very pleased with the abuse report of one Harry James Potter._

**oOo**

Arabella emerged from the floo in the Leaky Caldron, one of the access points to Diagon Alley.

"Good Afternoon, Bella," Tom hailed.

"Tom," she greeted with the nod of her head.

"What brings you, business or pleasure?" He asked.

"Business, Tom. I have important things to do this afternoon and not much time left to do them," she replied, hurrying through the pub.

"Right then, off you go. It's always a pleasure to see you. Stop by and warm a chair when you have more time."

"Bye Tom," she called over her shoulder, stepping out into the alley. Arabella walked over to the wall and tapped it several times with her wand. The bricks rearranged themselves into a passageway leading to Diagon Alley. With a determined walk she made her way to the office of Prewett and Prewett.

The humble building surprised Arabella. With Augusta involved she had expected something grander. A sign hung from the door stating that they were not accepting new clients at this time. The door gave a quaint chime as it opened.

The Prewetts looked up from their side by side desks to see who'd entered. Diana Prewett appraised the older witch and said, "You must be Mrs Figg. I have some forms for you to sign. I was about to owl them to you."

"That is precisely why I am here. Things have become more urgent," Arabella replied.

Diana proceeded to lock the door and cast some privacy charms just as a precaution. They had never worked for a high profile client before. Locking away all paperwork and regular use of privacy charms, among other security features, were going to become the norm.

Terry Prewett stood up indicating for Arabella to take a seat.

"I have the forms out right now. If you complete them I will deliver them to London and file them myself. Then it will be official. I know it is shocking but both Ministries are capable of working together on occasion. They each put their best foot forward in regard to laws. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."

With a sharp look from his wife, Terry stopped with the Muggle terms. He just loved to use Muggle items and jargon. It confused some of their clients and sometimes made them feel uncomfortable.

_He's being a prat because of Madam Longbottom. The woman had come in and judged us, not that I blame her. Then she had opened her 'fat checkbook' as Terry put it and bought them. The way he acted you would think we had become slaves. As much as he resents bigotry about being a squib you'd think he would be more understanding about purebloods, especially the old noble families,_ Diana thought with a growing frustration towards her sometimes thick headed husband.

"One hand washes the other," Arabella added with a grin at Terry.

Terry positively beamed at the reply. "Muggle born?"

Arabella shook her head. "Undercover work. I've lived the last four years as a Muggle keeping an eye on Harry. There are a few luxuries I have grown fond of over the years. I daresay a few of them I couldn't live without. Their Feline Fancy magazine is a delight to read."

The red headed man dropped into the client seat across from Arabella and slouched down in the chair. He was about to prop his feet up on the desk when Diane glared another warning at him. With a sigh he settled for stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

"I have a post-it-note next to every line that needs to be signed," Diana pointed out helpfully.

"Another Muggle creation," Terry mentioned not so casually.

Chasing a stray lock of grey hair from her eyes, Arabella looked closely at Terry. "Your Molly Weasley's cousin!"

"Guilty." He chortled softly to himself at the law pun.

"Molly said she invited you over to keep Arthur from plaguing her with his muggle hobbies. I remember when you gave him that old Ford Anglia. He had installed an invisibility device and we took it on a stake out for the Order. It worked like a charm, except the Ford had to be kept running for the invisibility to work. So we sat there invisible with the car spewing a cloud of exhaust behind us," Arabella laughed as she turned through the pages signing where it was necessary.

Terry laughed in response. "Arthur had to invite me over himself a few times after that. Molly was pretty angry about all the time he spends with it in the shed. She still gives me a scathing look when ever Arthur mentions the Ford."

"There, that should do it," Arabella announced setting the quill down.

Diana looked through the Wizard Child Advocate forms while Terry checked the Muggle paperwork. They nodded their heads in approval, made copies of the forms and stuffed them into legal sized envelopes.

Terry checked his wind up wristwatch as he headed for the exit a moment later and said, "I'll deliver these myself. There is just enough time to visit both ministries if I hurry. I can pull some strings and get them signed off on today. They owe me. It's been a pleasure, Arabella."

"Director Bones requested the forms to be taken directly to her," Arabella called after Terry.

The Prewetts glanced at each other then at Arabella. "The Aurors have been contacted?" Diana asked leaning towards Arabella in interest.

"Just Director Bones. We had discussed contacting her last night but had decided to wait. It was a chance encounter. Augusta was about to leave Diagon Alley when they met. The opportunity to speak with the Director without anyone at the Ministry knowing was too great to pass," Arabella explained.

"What did she have to say?" Terry asked from the door.

"She asked for everything to be routed to her home address and not through the ministry. The advocacy forms will be taken care of by her. As a former Senior Auror placing me as the child advocate will go uncontested. Director Bones took several pictures of Harry to add as evidence. She would probably give you copies, if you asked. I believe she plans on filing the charges with the Wizengamot herself," Arabella answered.

"You better get going, Terry. We need to make sure the child advocate status is granted today."

"Right - O," Terry replied, tipping an imaginary hat to the ladies. He opened the door and nearly toppled the goblin messenger on the steps.

"Oh, terribly sorry about that," Terry quickly apologized to the goblin.

The goblin leered at him menacingly and righted his uniform. "Mr Prewett? Retainer of Lady Longbottom?"

"That's me."

"Please sign here," the goblin courier said holding out a scroll and quill.

Terry promptly scribbled a signature, in which only the first letter was legible. The goblin sneered at the messy penmanship and handed a tiny silver knife. "Blood seal is required as well."

The red headed man pricked his little finger and a single drop of blood fell upon the Gringotts wax seal. Satisfied, the goblin handed over a satchel of papers. "Master Orelink requests the presence of the Prewett and Prewett firm at your earliest convenience. Is there a..."

"Diane, you've got a goblin who needs to schedule a meeting," Terry hollered at his wife.

"I've really gotta run. Talk to Diane," Terry said, handing the satchel back to the goblin and walking around him.

"Errrrr," the goblin muttered under his breath as he entered the lawyer's office.

"I do apologize. My husband is in a hurry," Diane offered to sooth any insult.

The goblin cleared his throat and started again, "Master Orelink requests the presence of the Prewett and Prewett firm and the parties you represent at your earliest convenience."

Diane considered the fact that no time had been specified. Master Orelink, the branch manager of Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Harrod's, just invited them to a meeting at their convenience. Meaning he would clear his schedule for them. She wrapped her head around the concept that very powerful individuals were becoming involved. Lady Longbottom, Master Orelink, Director Bones, Harry Potter.

This was the case of a lifetime. Prewett and Prewett would become an overnight success with this. Proctus law firm, her father's firm, would beg her to join. Perhaps they would finally extend an offer to Terry in an effort to get her. That, more than any other reason, was why she had never joined her father's law firm. Proctus would not allow a squib to work for them and she would not accept it.

"Uhhh, would tonight at a six be alright?" Diane hesitantly asked.

"Six tonight. Master Orelink will be waiting," the goblin agreed, handing an invitation to Diane. The gold lettering spun across the invitation with the date and time. The goblin spun on his heel and left.

"Fortunately we have a good sitter lined up," Arabella commented dryly.

**oOo**

Perspiration dotted Augusta's forehead as she concentrated on weaving the notice-me-not charm into the meager wards around the house. She pushed a considerable amount of her own magical energy into the enchantment to avoid diminishing any of the existing defenses.

She wiped her brow once the work was finished. _It's not the best I have done but if I have my way Arabella and Harry will be safely tucked away at Longbottom Manor by tomorrow. Now I just have to convince Arabella to move into the guesthouse. She will do anything for Harry. I'll just have to present it as the best thing to do for his safety. It shouldn't be too difficult, Amelia already made the recommendation. _

Augusta's gaze drifted to the Dursley's home. "Hmpf."

_It will be interesting to see what happens when Mrs Dursley realizes that Dudley really is a wizard. The way she acted I almost feel sorry for the boy. I wonder if she knows that she is a squib herself? Maybe he will be a squib. It would be best for everyone that way. Maybe I could get a look at the Muggle born registry books from that troll of a woman, Dolores Umbridge._

A bug buzzed around Augusta's face, distracting her from further berating the Dursleys. Absent-mindedly she waved a hand at the irritant before going back inside. The winged pest followed behind the silver haired woman. The door swung shut, swiftly closing the insect out.

The beetle landed on the screen and clambered around. It found the doorframe and crawled the perimeter, looking for a crack to crawl through. A tiny opening revealed itself and the bug disappeared.

It emerged on the other side and was greeted by two furiously pounding white paws. The orange tabby with white paws slapped the creature and set it to spinning on its back. Mr Paws pounced on the over turned beetle and smashed it between his paws lifting it into the air. The bug dropped to the floor right side up and scrambled back beneath the doorframe. Mr Paws scratched along the floor, extending his claws in an effort to ensnare his prey.

Once on the other side the frazzled bug buzzed into the air and sought out another entrance to the home. Window after window the bug landed and crawled about the screens, probing for another opening.

Tufty was soon attracted by the buzzing noises at the second window. He began to bat at the bug as it crawled around the screen. The grey tabby butted his face against the screen trying to catch the bug in his mouth. When it took flight for the next window the Kneezle followed. This time he sunk his claws through the wire mesh in another attempt to catch it. Hastily, the insect took flight.

A few windows down the bug landed on the kitchen window. The grey cat walked into the room, which was filled with three children each sitting on a chair in a different corner. Occasionally he would gaze at the window but made no attempt to pursue his prey. When the bug finally stopped scurrying around the screen Tufty prowled a little closer, chattering like a machine gun. The children swiveled in their seats to watch the cat hunt. Every few seconds Tufty edged forward stalking the irksome bug. He gracefully leapt upon the counter with hardly a sound. The grey tail twitched back and forth over the edge of the counter as he watched his prey. Closer and closer he crept. Still the beetle sat, without a care, on its perch.

CRASH!

Mr Paws jumped from a low hanging tree branch against the kitchen window. In mid air his paws batted franticly, ensnaring the bug and dragging it down to the ground. Tibbles, the calico Kneezle, joined Mr Paws a moment later and they thumped their paws through the dirt to turn up the irksome intruder. The bug tried to lay low but was jostled out of its hiding spot. Tibbles scooped the beetle up in her mouth and gulped.

Augusta sat down and relaxed in the living room. After a few minutes she marveled at the quiet house. She was not expecting this with four children present, including her own rambunctious grandson. She stood to search for the other household occupants. Her unease went away when she found three of them sitting in separate corners in the kitchen watching the Kneezle on the counter top.

"Shoo," Augusta said waving her hands at the cat.

The gray tabby thumped his tail against the cabinet door irritably in response and stood his ground with a baleful look in his eye.

Augusta clapped her hands at the stubborn Kneezle as she walked towards him. The cat hissed at her but jumped down and sauntered from the room. Two more of the fury fiends entered through the cat flap on the back kitchen door. Much to Augusta's distress the calico cat hunched upon the floor and gave a low sickly meow. The cat's body lurched several times as it made a dry hacking noise deep in it's throat. There was a wet splat as a pile of phlegm hit the floor.

"Ugh. Neville clean it up please," Augusta said disgustedly and left for the parlour.

Happy to be free, Neville promptly hopped down from the chair and set to his task. Hannah and Susan watched him with some jealously as he pushed his chair back to the table and stood up on it to get some paper napkins. The expression on the girls' faces soured as the boy leaned over the yellow foam to wipe it up.

Neville examined the bile on the floor and hesitated. He could see a bug in the stinky goo. With a poke and prod of his index finger Neville removed the beetle from the yellow froth. "Look a beetle!"

"Ewwwww," Hannah and Susan chorused.

The insect stirred on the floor. "It's still alive! A cat ate it and it's still alive," Neville said excitedly to his grossed out companions.

"Neville just get rid of it and clean the mess up," Augusta nearly shouted from the parlor.

"Don't worry little guy. I'm not going squish you. Lets just take you back outside," Neville said in a conspirator's whisper. He gently picked the insect up and carried it outside. The orange tabby followed him out the door with great interest.

"Oh no you don't. You're not going to get him this time," Neville said to the Kneezle and stood up on the tip of his toes to place the bug up higher on a tree.

"There, now you can't get him," Neville said confidently and turned to leave.

Mr Paws leaped up on the tree and started after the beetle.

"No! Bad..." Neville started to scold the cat. He didn't get any further when the beetle transformed into a lady before his eyes.

The cat was knocked from the tree and the woman landed heavily on the ground.

"Gran! Come quick Gran. Gran!"

In the parlor, Augusta settled herself comfortably on the couch across from Lorraine and Harry. The young woman held Harry in her lap and was rocking him. Augusta considered Lorraine and the brief amount of time they had spent together. Lorraine was the epitome of motherhood. She was in her element with Harry in her arms. It was no wonder that Amelia trusted her with Susan's care.

Augusta was much too dignified to bellow but sometimes Neville taxed her sensibility and good manners, just like his father had. Frank had been a complete shock for her. He liked bugs, snakes and all kinds of creepy crawlers; stomping through puddles and playing in the rain; and sinking his hands in mud just for the joy of it. Frank had had constant sticky little boy hands that you didn't want to know where they had been. Neville was just like him and hearing him in the kitchen, probing through a cat's vomit was too much.

"Neville just get rid of it and clean the mess up," she shouted then shook her head.

A second later she looked over at Harry, hoping that he had not been disturbed by her outburst. The boy had stirred a bit but settled back down once Lorraine started to scratch his head. _It is amazing that Harry is so accepting of Arabella's affection. He is even taking to me and now Lorraine too. The poor boy must have been so lonely and starved for attention. _

Stirred out of her thoughts by Neville's sudden alarmed calls for help, Augusta dashed out of the parlor and ran to find him. Lorraine hurried after Augusta. The hectic pace of her walk jostled Harry awake. He put both hands on her shoulders, straightened his arms and legs giving his body a stretch. He looked at her grumpily and murmured unhappily, "Wha's going on?"

With her wand in hand, Augusta was the first out the door. Lorraine was right behind her. Hannah and Susan abandoned their chairs to follow. The procession found Neville in the back yard facing a blond haired woman. Keeping her wand trained on the intruder, Augusta used her other hand to push Neville behind her. Augusta noticed that Lorraine finally had the presence of mind to draw her own wand. _She is definitely not a fighter, _Augusta thought.

The bedraggled woman glared at the orange tabby, which growled back at her. The cat walked upon stiff legs towards the stranger, swipe furiously at her then spring away again, hissing and spitting. The other Kneazles soon encircled her, adding their low growling complaints. All four were rigidly on guard, their fur standing straight up ready to fight.

Augusta appreciatively watched Arabella's familiars circle the intruder. _I am definitely getting Neville one soon. _She studied the woman. Her tightly curled blond hair was plastered to her head with spittle. Gaudily bejeweled spectacles were askew on her face. She adjusted her glasses and ran a hand through her hair before slowly standing up. The cats hostilely lowered themselves to the ground and made an atrocious racket as they advanced on her together.

"Where's Mrs Figg?" Harry worriedly asked, looking around blurry eyed. Without his glasses he couldn't see well but something was clearly wrong.

"Shhh. It's OK, Harry," Lorraine comforted.

"Harry," the woman repeated with a hungry gleam in her eye. _He is here! The floo network said the home belonged to Mrs Arabella Figg, former Senior Auror and suspected member of the Order of the Phoenix. Why is Augusta Longbottom here? Frank and Alice were also Aurors; they were tortured by death eaters until they went insane. Perhaps they were also members of the Order as well. The Order of the Phoenix was a secret society; there were only rumors of who the members actually were. They operated outside of the law and were enemies of the Dark Lord. Maybe Augusta was the leader of the Order. Oh, the scandal that would be - The head of an ancient and noble house, leading a controversial organization!_

"She was the bug that got puked up, Gran," Neville said, poking his head out from behind her to see what was going on.

The blonde lady's eyes flittered down to the brown haired boy, standing behind Lady Augusta Longbottom, and hesitated. She barged forward after a second, hoping to ignore the boy's statement. The cats launched themselves at her in a feral attack.

"Ri... ow ow ow."

"_Stupify!" _Augusta cast the stunner at the woman, knocking her to the ground. She looked around cautiously just incase there were any witnesses.

"In. Everyone back inside," Augusta commanded.

_Rita Skeeter! The writer knows where Harry is I can only assume she also knows about the abuse report. How did the word get out? We need to speak about this with Arabella. I am not the tactician that Arabella is but even I know that this was poorly handled. It could have been a Death Eater or Albus Dumbledore knocking on the door. There could have been real danger and like a bunch of fools we marched outside making targets of ourselves. _

"_Mobilicorpus," _Augusta incanted, floating the writer behind her.

**oOo**

The fireplace expanded in size as Petunia backed away. A moment later Albus Dumbledore stepped through with a grave look upon his face.

"Tell me, what has happened?"

Petunia went immediately on the defense and snapped back, "Your spy across the street has kidnapped Harry."

Albus looked at Petunia coolly and replied, "Mrs Figg is there to protect Harry and his family. Now why has she deemed it necessary to protect Harry from his family?"

"How should I know? Your kind is barking mad. The whole lot of you! I cannot say what has gotten into her head," Petunia rattled off wringing her hands nervously. The tiny hairs on her arms were standing on end alerting her that Albus' magic was surging. She had felt it with Lily when they were little just as she could feel it with Harry now. It made her feel dirty.

"Has Vernon been after Harry again?" Albus asked angrily.

"Yes. Not really. No."

"How bad was it this time?"

"Not bad. He looked a little stiff but could do his chores and gets around by himself. If Arabella hadn't given Harry a bath she would have never known. I told Vernon to be careful," her lips worked faster than her mind, spilling things she did not mean to reveal.

Albus' mind raced with the new knowledge. He felt sick to his stomach and not for the first time. "Why would Arabella be taking care of Harry instead of you? Harry is sick with Dragon Pox why is he not here in your tender care?" Albus asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"She was just being neighborly. I had a bridge party scheduled for the weekend. Nobody would have come if they realized there was a child with the pox at home. When Dudley came down with it, I had to cancel it anyway. He started to sneeze flames and his skin has this awful green color. My poor Dudley has caught some horrible disease from that child. I had to get him before Arabella saw what a..." She wisely didn't finish her statement.

"A party was more important than the care of your nephew? Your sister's own flesh and blood," Albus said in disbelief. _Severus had not exaggerated how much Petunia hated Lily. I knew she had taken it hard when Professor McGonagall explained why Lily was special and she was not. Petunia is a squib. As a child she could sense the magic around her but had none of her own. She could feel and see what she was missing and loathed Lily for it. _

The headmaster looked at Petunia and saw her unease. He reined in his anger and his aura, which had become oppressive to the squib standing before him. With a cooler head he asked, "Why didn't you tell me Vernon was after Harry again?"

"It didn't seem that bad. As long as I kept Harry busy and out of his way Vernon was happy to ignore him. But then he started telling some lies about Dudley at school and Vernon couldn't be distracted anymore," she said neglecting to mention her role in telling Vernon about the principal's call or her own contributions to Harry's treatment.

_The freak deserved what he got for telling lies about our precious Dudley, _Petunia thought bitterly to herself.

"Well it must have been bad enough for Mrs Figg to feel she needed to do something about it," he replied. _But why didn't she come to me? She has always come to me with her concerns in the past._

"I didn't want you to do, whatever it is that you do to Vernon again. I've told you that he eventually starts in on Harry again and it is always worse after you do that. You can't change how he feels about Harry. He has never liked the boy, never."

Albus ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully._ Are the blood wards interfering with the compulsion charms to leave Harry alone? Is Vernon building up immunity since I have had to do it so often? Is there an adverse reaction to the charm making Vernon even more hostile to Harry? Perhaps it is time to look for another keeper. If Harry is placed with a magical family though, the ministry will learn of his location. It was easier to give him to the Evans family and move them into a new home. Lily had rarely spoke of Petunia and had never mentioned her sister's married name, Dursley. With a few charms concealing their home, a blood ward to protect against intruders and a former Auror on duty just to be safe, the Boy-Who-Lived had effectively disappeared. Now it is all in jeopardy because of an abusive Uncle and an Aunt who never stopped being jealous of her deceased sister. _

He gave his beard a tug in frustration as he began to pace uncharacteristically. It was difficult to work Albus up but all his machinations were being ruined by a woman who could not find it in herself to love her orphaned nephew.

_Love... She cannot even tolerate the boy. I should not have forced Harry upon them. It was doomed from the start. Never had I imagined that someone could not find it in their heart to love a child. Wizarding children are precious. The community has shrunk to a point that half bloods and muggle borns are nearly as populous as the pureblood families. In another ten years they will become the majority. If Lord Voldemort had not stirred that ugly hatred there would already be more muggle borns than purebloods, like in America. Unfortunately, many muggle born magical folk fled to the United States rather than fight for a community that considers them to be inferior. _

Petunia had never seen Albus flustered before and it unnerved her. "One of the women said Dudley was a wizard. Is that true?" She asked hesitantly, not sure that she wanted to know the answer.

"Yes. The fact that he has Dragon Pox indicates that he is at least a squib. A squib is a wizard or witch who has no magic of their own. The magical world and all of the wonders is visible to them. They can even use magical devices like the floo network," Albus hinted to Petunia's status as a squib. He didn't want to upset her more by saying that Dudley's name was on the Hogwarts' admittance list. At one time he had hoped the two would become as close as brothers, so that Harry would have a stalwart ally at his side when he came to Hogwarts.

She raised a hand to her mouth in disbelief. "Not my Dudders. He cannot be an aberration like that boy," Petunia said in a loathing tone. She could not bring herself to acknowledge that she was a squib and ignored the headmaster's not so subtle hint about her use of the floo network.

"How many people were there?" Albus asked, curious as to who might be at Mrs Figg's.

"There were three women and a few children. I didn't recognize any of them. They were not from Dudley's school. I am a school mother and know nearly all of the parents with children in Dudley's grade," Petunia replied haughtily.

_It's as if Harry does not even exist to her. She talks about school and being a 'school mother' but never includes Harry. What have I done? I altered Arabella's memories on the assurance from Petunia that Harry was in good care. I was so sure that Petunia would be as loving as Lily was. They were sisters raised together. The parents would have encouraged a nurturing environment. _

"Mum! Get me an ice lolly," Dudley bellowed from the couch in front of the telly.

"Yes, Duddikins," she answered then opened the freezer. Petunia dug through the frozen treats looking for a grape one.

"How about orange, sweetie?" Petunia asked.

"Grape!"

"There aren't any grape ones left dear," she called back.

"I want grape!"

"But there aren't any, how about cherry?" She tried to reason with him.

"I said I want _grape!_" Dudley screamed.

"I'll ask your father to stop by the store and bring some home," Petunia replied.

"I want one now," Dudley wailed. A crash punctuated his statement.

Petunia turned to Albus helplessly and asked, "Is there an injection or something to cure Dudley?"

"I don't have a cure for what Dudley has," Albus said shaking his head at the spoiled boy's tantrum.

_Your husband should share some of his eagerness to discipline Harry with his own son, _Albus thought_._

"It appears your hands are full. I will go see about Harry," Albus said excusing himself.

"When will the boy be back? Maybe Arabella can keep him until he gets better since she wouldn't give him back. Let her take care of the sick little miscreant," Petunia rattled on, frazzled by Dudley's fit.

"Perhaps she will," Albus said thoughtfully before letting himself out the door.

"That was enlightening," Albus said to himself crossing the street to Mrs Figg's home.

The children watched curiously as Augusta floated the stranger into the house's parlor. Lorraine put Harry down so she could get a better look at the woman. There was a peculiar acidic aroma to her that she couldn't quite place.

"The cat puked her up, Gran," Neville reminded Augusta.

"Yes Neville, I heard you the first time. What have I told you about saying things like that?" Augusta said as she studied Rita and considered what to do.

"It's not gentlemanly conduct to use crude language," Neville answered by rote in a bored tone. He leaned in closer to the stranger then said, "She smells funny."

_Well that explains the odor, _Augusta thought wrinkling her nose.

Before Augusta could say anything more Lorraine spoke up, "Alright, out you go, the lot of you. Go play. Here are your glasses, Harry."

Harry took the frames and slid them onto his face. Now that he could see better he smiled his thanks at Lorraine then turned around to follow the other children. In the kitchen, Harry stood apprehensively waiting to be heckled. He peered out from under his bangs cautiously, noticing that Neville had a shiner.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly pointing to Neville's eye.

"Neville got in a fight with that prat. I wanted to punch him too but Neville got him good," Susan said with great conviction.

The brown haired boy stood taller and puffed out his chest. "Nobody treats any of my friends like that," he said proudly.

Harry flinched when Hannah patted his hair where Dudley had stuck the lolly. "Are you OK?" she asked sympathetically, inspecting his hair.

Hannah had had to get gum cut out of her hair once because she didn't take it out before going to bed. She had cried and cried when her mum had cut her golden locks. It had grown back to its regular length by the next day so it was alright. When it had happened, she had cried like it was an epic tragedy. She was worried that Harry was gong to have to get his hair cut too.

"Yeah. Thanks," Harry replied relaxing under Hannah's touch.

"Good," Hannah said then gave him a quick hug and stepped away.

"What should we play?" Susan asked, moving on to more important things.

"Let's play house," Hannah said eagerly.

"No way," Neville said bluntly with a look of aversion.

Hannah looked hurt and Susan was by her side ready to defend her friend. Harry watched nervously as a line was drawn, boys against the girls. A sharp acidic taste burned at the back of his throat, dreading the confrontation. His face paled and he began to wring his hands.

The blond, pig tailed little girl watched Harry's anxious motions. She stopped frowning and smiled brilliantly at Harry then patted Susan's hand comfortingly. "What do you want to play, Harry?" She said, cocking her head at a funny angle and shaking her pigtails with the motion.

Harry was startled by the question. His hands stilled as all eyes turned to him. Hannah's smile broadened. The black haired boy grinned timidly in return. "Ummm. I don't know," he said in an uncertain tone.

Nobody had ever asked Harry what he wanted to play. In fact, other than today he had never really played with anyone. The pressure of being put on the spot set his hands in motion again.

Seeing his hesitation Hannah offered some choices, "We could play checkers or jacks again. There are some wizard tops (Harry cringed when she mentioned the tops) over there. Oh! I know, how about hide and go seek?"

Neville brightened at that idea. He happily echoed the suggestion, "Yeah, how about hide and seek Harry?"

Not wanting to disappoint anyone Harry nodded his approval. He was just happy that nobody had mentioned his accident or Dudley.

"Onetwothreenotit!" Three voices raced.

Harry stared dumbly at his feet feeling like he had missed something again. Hannah patted his hand comfortingly.

"It was my idea. I'll be it first," Hannah volunteered and went to a corner in the kitchen.

"One..." Hannah called from her corner by the kitchen door as the other children scrambled from the room.

"Come on Harry let's hide," Susan said latching a hold of Harry's hand and dragging him into the living room.

"And no peeking," Neville called over his shoulder as he ran.

"I'm not!" Hannah shouted then continued her count, "Two... Three... Four..."

The three children separated to look for a hiding spot. Neville opened the door of an end table and crawled inside on top of the Feline Fancy magazines. His hand slid, tearing the cover of one of the books. "Oops. Psst. Harry, shut the door, " Neville called for help.

"Six... Seven..."

After shutting the door for Neville, Harry hurried about for a hiding spot of his own. He watched Susan slide herself behind the couch against the wall.

"Eight... Nine..."

He ducked behind one of the living room curtains and hoped for the best.

"Ten! Ready or not here I come," Hannah warned from the kitchen.

Harry slowed his breathing and did his best to avoid touching the long window curtains that hung to the floor. A sly smile was on his face as he listened to Hannah pass by. He turned his head to one side, leaning his warm forehead against the cool window pane. It felt great and he closed eyes for a moment appreciating the coolness.

When he opened his eyes he could see the Dursley's house and he shivered. The front door opened and a white haired man in purple robes stepped out. The breeze stirred his long white beard. The old chap walked towards Mrs Figg's home. Harry began to shake. The man was on the front walk and looked at Harry standing in the window. Jarred from his momentary paralysis Harry backed away from the window. "No..."

"I'm supposed to find you," Hannah said patiently watching Harry emerge from his hiding spot.

Harry ignored her and threw the end table open. He grabbed Neville and pulled him out.

"Harry! That's cheating," Neville protested.

"Come on! Susan… Susan…" Harry cried out frantically, pulling Susan out from behind the couch.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hannah asked getting a little anxious herself.

"He's here! You have to go! He'll make you forget," Harry pleaded, urging his friends towards the kitchen.

The doorbell rang and Harry started getting rougher with them. Now he was forcibly shoving them. "Go. Go. GO!"

After the children left, Lorraine turned to Augusta. "What is going on? Why did you stun her?"

"This is Rita Skeeter, star writer of the Daily Prophet. She is a hack with a flair for stirring trouble. Half of the noble houses and nearly every member of the Wizengamot have suffered under her acid pen. The fact that she is here is not a good thing. Arabella has been retired for the last five years and even when she was active she was not important enough to get Rita's attention. Somehow she has learned about Harry and I intend to find out how," Augusta replied gravely.

At once it clicked for Lorraine - The woman getting to her feet saying Harry's name with a hungry look in her eye and then rushing towards her… no towards Harry. Lorraine nodded her head in understanding, "What are we going to do?"

Augusta smiled in camaraderie at Lorraine. "We are going to leave her in stasis until Arabella returns. She is much more talented than I at questioning," the silver haired woman answered.

"Why don't we call Amelia?" Lorraine asked.

"Rita hasn't done anything wrong yet, although if Neville is right about her being the bug, she might be an unregistered animagus. Amelia will have restrictions about what she can ask or do. Arabella and I do not," Augusta explained.

Lorraine leaned back in her chair. When she had come over late this morning she had been expecting a play party for the purpose of exposing Hannah and Susan to Dragon Pox. It had seemed like such a practical idea at the time. Then she met Harry Potter and things had become much more complicated.

"Having second thoughts Lorraine? You can walk away; nobody will blame you. You have Hannah and Susan to think about. This is not your battle." Augusta offered a way out to the overwhelmed woman.

"No. If someone had stood up for Harry in the beginning, none of this would be happening. I will not be another person who just walked away when things start to get rough," Lorraine answered resolutely.

"Good people are hard to come by, Lorraine. I'm glad you are with us," Augusta said honestly.

"Stop pushing! That hurt, Harry. What's wrong?" The children clamored along as Harry herded them into the kitchen.

Augusta and Lorraine turned to the kitchen to see what was going on. They watched Harry give Hannah and Susan a forceful shove then plant both hands on Neville's back and push him.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Lorraine asked just as the doorbell rang.

His head jerked back fearfully towards the front door. "Don't answer!" Harry screamed.

Augusta stood up and walked into the kitchen. She looked down on the distraught boy. "Who is it, Harry? Is it Petunia?"

Harry shook his head no and whispered, "The old chap with the white beard."

_Oh ho! Albus is here. This is not the time or the place that I would have chosen for the confrontation. However, he is here and someone must do something._

A regal mask slipped into place and Augusta started to walk determinedly towards the door. She moved forward two steps and was nearly thrown to the floor when Harry tackled her around the knees.

"Harry!" Augusta blurted out, surprised by the attack.

"No! Don't go. Please don't go," Harry pleaded.

"I must, he will not just go away," she tried reasoning with him gently.

"No, you will go away. You and Mrs Figg and Neville and… and... everyone will forget me," his body shook with the terrified confession.

The doorbell rang again and Harry tightened his hold. Augusta adjusted her balance then crouched down. She firmly pried his arms loose, looked him in the eye and confidently said, "I am not just anyone, Harry. He is not prepared to face someone like me."

After a moment he stopped struggling to wrap his arms back around her, let his hands drop to his lap and huffed in defeat, "Promise, you'll r'member."

"I promise, Harry," Augusta replied, picking him up. She gave him a hug and handed him over to Lorraine.

Lorraine escorted the children into the parlor. Harry watched over Lorraine's shoulder. The grand, silver haired woman raised her head and regally walked to the front door, wand in hand. A subtle twist of her wrist and the door opened. Harry's eyes met the white haired man's eyes briefly before Lorraine carried him away.

"Albus Dumbledore," Augusta greeted him with steel in her voice, noting his eyes looking into the house.

"Augusta Longbottom," he nodded his head politely. _Where is Arabella? What is Augusta doing here? And who was holding Harry? _His mind reeled over the possibilities.

"Is there something which I can help you with?" She asked with cool civility.

"I would like to speak to Arabella," he replied cautiously. Their eyes met and tendrils of his consciousness wormed out. He inadvertently cringed when the probes were unexpectedly severed.

"She is away for the moment. Would you like to leave her a message?" Augusta said coldly.

"Perhaps I can wait for her to return," Albus suggested with a twinkle in his eye.

His powerful suggestion crashed like a tide upon a rocky shore. Augusta shook her head no and said, "I will let Arabella know you would like to talk to her when she returns."

Albus stood confounded before Augusta. Very few magical folk weathered his powerful presence but short of a full mental attack her shields would not budge.

After some time of uncomfortable silence Augusta asked, "Is there anything else you would like to convey?"

"Petunia Dursley would prefer that Harry stayed with Arabella until he is better," Albus revealed watching for a reaction.

She nodded her head and calmly replied, "I will let Arabella know."

He was certain that Augusta knew a great deal about Harry but her face revealed nothing. Even with them staring each other in the eye, Albus could not breach her occlumency shields. "Harry is well protected with the Dursley's," Albus said in a last gambit for more information.

Augusta's eyes hardened and her voice became deep and silky. "Well protected from whom, Albus? Have a good evening."

"Good evening to you as well, Augusta," Albus said and walked away.

Beneath Augusta's floor length dress her legs shook. It had taken nearly all of her considerable energy to maintain a shield strong enough to appear unaffected by his leglimency attempts. The powerful suggestion spell he'd used had almost swept her away. She shut the door and put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

_Never, have I ever felt anything like that on my shields. Even a small talent in Leglimency combined with the power at his disposal is a humbling thought. It is no wonder that I could not see any breaches in Arabella's defenses. I doubt if anyone else could either. He could possess someone easily. It is considered a dark art, but it would be nothing for him to commandeer someone's body and lock away their mind._

"Willow!" Augusta called urgently.

An immediate pop followed Augusta's call as air rushed away from the sudden appearance of a tiny house elf.

"Yes, my Lady," Willow answered bowing low enough for her long ears to sweep the floor.

"Activate the sentinels and have everyone work on preparing the guest house for tonight," Augusta commanded hastily.

"As you wish, my Lady," Willow answered and disappeared.

"Is everything OK, Augusta?" Lorraine asked from the kitchen with concern on her face.

"No. Albus Dumbledore and Rita Skeeter both know where Harry is. I am not waiting to find out who else comes to visit. We are relocating to Longbottom Manor," Augusta answered as she marched to the kitchen.

"What about Rita? The headmaster knows you were here, won't he just assume that is where everyone went? How will Arabella know where we have gone?" Lorraine asked, falling in line behind Augusta.

"Rita comes with us. I'm not through with her. Yes, he will know where we have gone but it will be far more secure than here. As for Arabella, I'll just leave her a message," Augusta said brandishing her wand.

Standing with her back to the floo Augusta waved her wand and the name 'Longbottom Manor' appeared upon the floor. A second motion morphed the lettering into some undecipherable script. Then she cast a glamour, concealing the message. Finally, she left the Longbottom sigil floating above the hidden message.

The children had gathered around in silent wonder to watch Augusta work. Once finished, she picked up Harry, walked to the fireplace mantle, took a healthy pinch of floo powder and cast it in the fire. "Longbottom Manor," she called out.

The hearth swelled in size as green flames licked hungrily at Augusta's outstretched hand. The fire rolled between her fingers and caressed her hand. The flames receded to the now enlarged hearth. "You have been granted access. Take Hannah and Susan on through. I will send Rita afterwards then follow with the boys," Augusta instructed.

Lorraine scooped up Hannah and tossed some floo powder into the fire. "Longbottom Manor," she called then took Susan by the hand and stepped into the hearth. The fire flared higher, swirling around the three witches then whisked them away. Rita was quickly levitated on through shortly after the first group.

"Now it is our turn. Hold your breath and close your eyes, Harry. Longbottom Manor," she called again before taking Neville by the hand and walking through.

**oOo**

"Shite! I'm not going in there now. No way. Auror Figg is one thing but Albus Dumbledore and Figg in the same house. No," A man argued, waving his hands animatedly.

"Lets just watch, maybe he will go away. We don't have to go in right now," another man reasoned.

"That isn't even Figg at the door," A woman stated.

"Who is it?" The first voice asked.

"Augusta Longbottom I think. It's been a good five years since I have seen her last," the woman replied.

"Bollocks! This just keeps getting better and better. An Auror, a noblewoman and Albus Bloody Dumbledore," Mr panicky complained.

"Can we send for reinforcements?" Mr reasonable asked the woman.

"Unlikely. It was hard enough to get three of us together on such short notice," she answered.

"Figures. Nobody higher up was available?" Mr reasonable questioned.

"No. This is it," the woman said.

"Look! Albus is leaving," Mr panicky pointed out.

"Lets make sure he is gone and then scout the place out. We might be able to pull this off, if it is handled right," she said.

She waited until Albus was out of sight before checking the wards. "This is simple stuff. A notice-me-not charm to keep the Muggles away. A few fairly complex alarms but the shields are pathetic. I can dismantle the alarms in a few minutes then we can look the place over before we attack."

The two men waited patiently for her to finish while keeping an eye on the house.

"It's done. Apparate to the front corners of the house, use an obfuscation charm, and try to see who is inside. Meet around back then return here to report," she ordered.

The men vanished to complete their tasks. Several minutes later they returned. "I didn't see anyone in the house from my side. Just some Kneazles in the windows," Mr reasonable reported.

"It looked empty on my side too," Mr panicky agreed.

"We'll apparate inside the home. One of you will need to take me side along with you," she said since they had seen the inside of the home and knew where they could apparate to.

Mr reasonable held out his arm and said, "Lets go."

Quickly, they verified the house was empty.

"They must have gone to the Longbottom's residence," she said with a shudder.

Breaking the wards of an ancient home was an entirely different matter. Wars were fought for magical real estate. They were built to withstand a siege. The defenses of the ancient families would be impossible for someone like her to breach. It would take a team of professionals to do it. Even then the wards would not go quietly, many people would die forcing entry. The laws of the wizarding world allowed the use of lethal force in the defense of your home. The estates of ancient families would certainly have lethal curses woven into their wards.

_If they have gone to the Longbottom's, they will need to find someone else to go. I will not, _she thought_._

Mr panicky found the sigil in front of the fireplace. "Looks like they left a note," he said.

"Maybe they left a password for the floo," Mr reasonable said.

"Doubtful. They left a message for someone. Lets wait to see who shows up," she said with a wicked smile upon her face.

Arabella returned to the Leaky Cauldron to floo back home. Just to be cautious she stilled her mind and reached out to her familiars to check on the defenses. _My home has been compromised._

She shook a few bronze Knuts out for the use of floo powder. The fire flared in a sudden burst of emerald light. "Longbottom Manor. Augusta," Arabella called.

"Arabella, we relocated to my estate. You should come as well," Augusta said with a touch of worry.

"There are three guests in my home. I am going to visit with them first," Arabella said pleasantly.

"Would you like some company?" Augusta asked.

"It shouldn't take long. I'll just see what they want and be right over," she answered.

"Be careful," Augusta warned her friend.

Once the connection ended Arabella walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the streets of London to find somewhere that she could discreetly apparate from. Within minutes she was in her own yard and communicating with her familiars. Arabella did not recognize a single one of the three 'visitors'. The infiltrators had concealed themselves in the parlor with good cover and a clear line of sight to the entry points and fireplace, ready to ambush anyone who entered.

Arabella tapped into the power source beneath the home, adding the reserve of power to her own and then apparated to the parlor window and took aim at the back of one of the infiltrators. Her Kneazles stationed themselves within close proximity to one of the remaining men. With everyone in place she fired her first volley through the window, a simple stunning hex to incapacitate.

He started to collapse but before he could hit the floor Arabella had apparated into a corner of the room, not directly in front of either of the remaining enemy force.

The collapse of their partner startled them as did the sudden pop, which accompanied an apparation. They spun to attack.

Mr paws had slunk his way toward the man behind the couch. He ran beneath the man's robes and sunk in his claws, scaling up the man's leg. The cat wrapped its arms around his upper thigh and raked his hind claws down the inside of the man's inner thigh. Mr panicky let loose a pain filled scream.

In a desperate move he pointed his wand at the lump under his robes and tried to take careful aim. "_Diffindo!" _he shouted as Tufty, the gray tabby, leapt upon his arm, jarring his aim.

A high-pitched whine gurgled from his mouth as he dropped to the floor and rolled onto his side. Mr Paws ran out from under the wizard's robes, covered in blood.

The woman licked her lips, nervously facing Arabella. Two of them were already down. She chose the other road than the valor of a fierce battle and... nothing. Her attempt to apparate away failed.

_The wards were childish and ineffectual, a minor alarm was easily disabled. The fractured defenses only held a notice-me-not-charm and a feeble anti apparation ward. She glazed over the ward realizing that the structure was still whole and soundly in place despite the alterations. A secondary ward buried behind the others with an activation key was dormant. There was a stronger ward designed to keep people in. _"Oh shite," the woman muttered.

Arabella smiled and incanted, "_Confringo."_

The charged up blasting charm nearly shattered the hastily cast shielding charm. Even after absorbing the brunt of the attack the woman was nearly knocked off her feet. She was battered into the wall but managed to stay upright. There was no time to mount a counter attack.

"_Conduplico Diffindo," _Arabella cast a severing charm, which sent two attacks against her opponent's shielding spell. Both attacks pierced the other woman's defense. The first cut a gaping hole through her shoulder and the second grazed her wand arm. The grievous shoulder wound disabled her entire arm. The shield flickered out when her wand hit the floor.

"_Expelliarmus," _Arabella finished and all three wands flew to her out stretched hand.

She proceeded to finish incapacitating the two men and binding them. Her Kneazles kept a sharp look out while she worked. A quick check of the forearm revealed nothing. Not trusting her sight she used a revealing charm to remove any glamours or illusions.

_So they aren't Death Eaters or they don't have the Dark Mark. They could still be actively recruiting and nobody has figured out how to use the Dark Lord's Mark. Ask any Death Eater in Azkaban and they will tell you that the Dark Lord has not been defeated. The ones still free could still be acting on their own. _

"Why are you here?" Arabella asked the woman.

Silence was her answer. Her training as an Auror was too engrained and the desire to do right was too strong to employ questionable tactics. She tried a few more times to get an answer before activating the floo and summoning the Aurors to apprehend the home invaders.

Surprisingly, Amelia was with the group which arrived.

"What happened?" Director Bones asked.

"My guests had left while I was out. I returned from Diagon Alley to find the intruders in my home. The wards around the property had been purposely breached. I assumed the worst and defended my home," Arabella said as an official reply.

"Fortunately I have a dear friend that I can stay with," she added.

"If you think of anything else let me know," Amelia replied and nodded that she understood where Arabella was going.

Once Arabella's home was empty a silent figure detached itself from the shadow of a tree.

_Lucius isn't going to like this. We were too late to get the Potter brat. Getting him out of the Longbottom estate would take a rising of the remaining Death Eaters to accomplish that. Let the silver tongued devil go to work and throw his gold around. Narcissa is a Black and can claim blood relation to Harry Potter. I am sure Lucius can create a compelling case for his custody._

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